


More Than Gold

by NotTasha



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e12 Serpents, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTasha/pseuds/NotTasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra, Buck and JD are ambushed while transporting an important package.  Ezra is shot and the three are forced to walk to the bad guys' hideout.  This story takes place shortly after "Serpents"</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Gold

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved None whatsoever. This story is is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven" . No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.  
> RATING: PG-13 for Language and Violence  
> MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra, Buck and JD  
> SUMMARY: Ezra, Buck and JD are assigned the task of bringing a box back to Four Corners and are ambushed along the way  
> NOTE: This story originally appeared in Legends of the Magnificent Seven II.   
> DATE: Originally posted March 03, 2001   
> AWARDS: Winner of the 2002 Diamond Ezzie Award for Best Old West Fic – General - Zine  
> FURTHER NOTE: This story takes place shortly after "Serpents" and includes a lot of references to it.

PART 1:

Lazily, Ezra floated on the water's surface, looking up at the clear blue sky. It was wonderful to finally relax. He let out a long breath and let the water soothe him. This journey had been tiresome at best, but his weariness went deeper than simple exhaustion. He was tired to the bone.

For the past few weeks, sleep had trouble finding him, and every waking moment of the day, his mind was working on the recent happenings. When he did manage to sleep, his dreams had further worked the scenario. It had consumed him.

The assassin – Stutz, his one-eyed, bible-selling partner and son, the territorial governor, a plot to murder Mary Travis, a political rally, Liver-eating Jones, a satchel of money, $10,000 – Money, money, money. God!

He had been mulling it over for weeks now. Had he been fooling himself? Had he truly thought that he'd found a sort of brotherhood amongst the lawmen of Four Corners? Did he honestly believe he'd been accepted by them, that they trusted him, that they wanted him among them? Well, recent events had provided him answers. He let out a sigh and floated.

He should have expected it, in any case. He should never have allowed himself to have high-hopes, to let himself become attached to them…to the town. He should have left them long ago -- nothing held him. Perhaps he was just become lazy, soft, settled -- not a good situation for a man of his profession.

He should have realized that. He should have moved on.

Should have run out long ago.

In any case, he should have packed his bags the moment that Nathan let him loose from the clinic, declaring him fit after that brush with death. Yet, he stayed. Why?

Ezra didn't have a clear answer for himself. 'Punishment,' he decided. 'Loyalty for an unuttered promise?' Or perhaps it was just a sad acceptance -- what else should he have expected? He never pretended to be anything other than a swindler and a son-of-a-bitch. Why should the others have come to other conclusions?

His mind had been reeling for the past weeks. The calm coolness of the water was exactly what he needed. He needed to rest, he needed to collect his thoughts and come to a decision. He needed to relax.

Of course, this recent journey hadn't helped his situation. He, along with Buck and JD, had been forced on this spur-of-the-moment mission only yesterday, sent off to Ridge City to meet the train and pick up a special package.

They had arrived in Ridge City, sore and dirty, and had found that the bathhouse had been closed due to an illness in the keeper's family. After a long day on a dusty trail, there was nothing Ezra appreciated more than a warm soak -- but it was not to be. Instead, he'd had to make-do with a pan of warm water in the hotel room. He'd spent the night gaming -- doing only fairly well. The prospects weren't promising that night and the citizens of Ridge City were rather tight with their money.

He'd tried to force a few coins out of the obstinate competitors and finally returned to the room long after midnight -- to be awakened before dawn to meet the blasted train.

And then the train had had the audacity to be late! The three lawmen had spent their morning drinking coffee at the station and waiting in growing agitation. When the tardy locomotive finally chugged into the station, the conductor had personally handed Buck a sturdy cedar box, which was instantly stowed in his saddlebag.

For two hours they had rushed at a breakneck speed, determined to bring this 'all important' box to Four Corners, trying to make up for the lost time.

Yes, Larabee had demanded that the box make its way to town by high-noon, and if they pushed it a bit, they might just make that mark.

For two hours Ezra had been ridden in a cloud of dust and debris thrown up by his compatriots' beasts. For two hours he had traveled through the heat and the haze of the warming morning. For two hours he had suffered, and then, rather suddenly, Chaucer had gone lame, putting an end to the mad dash.

Ezra flipped over in the water and performed a perfect surface dive, noting a tug at his side – a pull at his arm -- reminders. He tightly closed his eyes, feeling the water pressure against his ears as he reached the cold water deep below.

He would have to stop by Mrs. Potter's when he returned to town and find a nice piece of candy for that horse – Chaucer had a passion for peppermints and he sure knew when to pick up a limp.

It was so cool and dark underwater that Ezra stayed until his lungs began to ache from the deprivation. Finally, his lungs starved, he kicked his legs and broke the surface, gasped in air and began treading water. His side pulled again. His arm moved fluidly enough – but ached a bit at this activity. The pains reminded him of his recently healed bullet wounds. Just his luck, the bullet would have to crease his arm before finding its way through that wad of cash and glancing his side. He adjusted his stroke accordingly.

He regarded the lake from his position in the middle of it. Buck and JD were putting together some sort of lunch while the horses rested. They had to get moving again soon, so Ezra had no problem with eating on the run, as long as he was allowed a few moments to swim. Ezra was certain that Chaucer could be persuaded to a full recovery after this rest. Larabee wouldn't stand for a long delay. The leader certainly had been insistent about returning by noon. Well, they'd be a bit late. There was simply no helping that.

Ezra had always loved swimming. Much of his youth was spent along rivers, lakes and oceans. When things had become too difficult for him, he had often escaped to the nearest body of water, for the relaxing comfort it provided, for the safety of it -- nothing could reach him there.

Once, in his youth, he had stolen a rowboat and tried to paddle it to the Mississippi where he might flag down a passing steamboat or maybe make it all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. It was an ill-advised and ill-timed adventure, but he hadn’t exactly had the chance to plan ahead.

He never made it to the great river. A sudden storm had kept him shore-bound with nothing to eat outside of the supply of oranges he'd hastily brought aboard. He'd been discovered after several days by the landowner and brought back to his relations.

Swimming was like flying. The water buoyed him up when nothing else could.

So what the hell was he doing living in a desert? It made no sense to him. He chuckled to himself and started swimming toward the far shore. He definitely didn't belong here. Recent facts had illustrated that to him quite clearly.

Mid-way to the shore of the pond, he turned and did an easy breaststroke back toward the bank nearest their campfire. He had already crisscrossed the pond four times, drawing out knots and aches. Sleep might come easily tonight. Lord, he hoped so. It had been weeks since he'd been able to sleep through the night. He was just approaching the high bank when the water exploded around him.

KABLAM! KABOOM!

The water frothed and foamed. What in the ... Ezra jerked back, trying to get away from whatever had suddenly attacked him. He was trying to ascertain which direction would be the safest to flee toward when he heard the raucous laughter of Buck and JD on either side of him.

"Scared the shit outta ya, didn't we?" Buck laughed, treading water in a most ungraceful manner, his underwear ballooning around him.

"Jeez, I hope not," JD chuckled, moving away from the southerner.

Ezra shook his head as the two men splashed about like children. "Gentlemen," he sighed.

"You didn't even see us up there, didja?" JD pointed to the cliff-like bank of the lake.

"I was rather busy," Ezra replied as they splashed about him, stirring up the water that had been crystal clear a moment ago.

"Good idea, taking a swim," Buck said. "But didn't your mama ever tell you not t'go swimmin' alone?"

Ezra raised an eyebrow at the man. "You've met my mother, sir." Buck chuckled and Ezra continued, "Besides, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." It's the way of my life, he thought.

"Well," Buck responded. "Sometimes you gotta figure on leaning on a friend or two." He laughed and flipped onto his back. The rogue steam-boated his way out to the middle of the lake, sending up a wall of water over both Ezra and JD. The young sheriff tried to guard his face against the spray and then took off after Wilmington.

Ezra's gaze followed. Usually, he'd want to participate in their antics, but he was too weary for such nonsense today. He made his way back to shore alone.

Ezra stood on the sandy bank and squeezed some of the moisture out of his hair. He ran his hands over his shoulders and chest in an attempt to draw off some of the water. He flicked the beads off his fingertips, but found he'd done little good. Well, it made no difference. His silk drawers would have to dry before he dressed. He'd let the sun do the job.

He headed to the high bank and once he reached the ledge, he confirmed his suspicion that, not only did it make an excellent diving platform, but it was also the perfect place to sunbathe. At least until I'm dry, he thought as he stretched out on the sun-heated rock. 

He didn't want to burn. He always had to be careful of that -- another reason why he shouldn't be in a desert. What are you thinking, Ezra Standish? Living where the sun might scorch your tender hide. Living where you will only be burned by long tenure.

He could hear Buck and JD's loud voices and their ridiculous splashing. Perhaps he would repay their attack if they came close enough to the bottom of this rock. He calculated exactly where they should be if he were to 'cannon ball' down at them. He just didn’t feel up to it.

"Hey, Buck!" JD suddenly cried. "Where'd Ezra go? Did we drown him?"

"Ezra?" Buck called, sounding a little panicked. "Dammit! Ezra!"

Ezra frowned at their concern. Certainly they didn't expect he had drowned? "Here," Ezra replied to the two who were trying to peer into the depths of the lake. They looked up.

"Hey!" Wilmington shouted. "Don't you get any ideas! We're wise to you!" He shook a finger.

"Yeah!" JD returned. "You're not gonna get us by divin' down here. We know what you're up to!"

"Yes, yes," Ezra replied with a yawn and lowered his head, wondering if they ever really understood what he was up to. With his head on his folded arms, he let the sun warm and dry him. Buck and JD were making an inordinate amount of noise, yelling and carousing. Buck, apparently, was trying to drown JD, holding his head beneath the surface and perhaps even trying to sit on him. Well, Larabee would probably demand some sort of explanation out of him as to why he had allowed Wilmington to drown their youngest member. 

He had felt a change in his relationships since that incident with the money. Some of the men still treated him as a friend, but others seemed to hold him at arm's length, as if they weren't truly sure of what to do with him. He felt their scrutiny, their constant observation, their suspicion.

It's your own fault, you know. You took the money. They're not to blame for your lack of willpower, your greed, your dishonesty, your disloyalty. You made your bed and now you must lie in it -- or find a new one.

So why are you still among them?

He opened his eyes in the dreamy warmth of the ledge and looked out over the lake before rolling over onto his back. Perhaps, because I rather enjoy their company. Perhaps I honestly like the home I've found and the work I do. 

Then why the hell did you throw it all away? You should've simply accepted their lack of trust. You should've swallowed the bitter pill and smiled. You should've been a good boy and behaved. You are what you are, after all, and they were only responding in the most logical way.

He sighed, deciding to think on other issues. There was nothing he could do about it in any case. If he were to stay, he could only hope that they would forgive him in time. 

As he rested on the warm ledge, he felt more relaxed than he'd been in weeks and started to doze. The lake and the sunny spot were really rather pleasant. For such a poor start, the day had turned out well.

What was so important about that package anyway? Perhaps if he went now, he could garner a peek before Buck and JD left the water. He crooked his mouth slightly, thinking that the package probably shouldn't be left unattended.

The sound of a gun being cocked split through his consciousness. He jerked upright, but pain splintered through him as the bullet drove him back to the ground.

 

PART 2:

"Ezra?" Buck shouted. His hand still rested on JD's head and he had one leg thrown over the kid's shoulder, effectively holding him under the surface. The echo of the shot still reverberated. The startled cry that had followed it had already stopped. 

"Ez?" No reply. "Ezra, answer me!"

God, Buck thought, let that fool southerner be chasin' some game…blowin' off some steam… takin' some target practice at the kid's damn hat! 

"Ezra!" Nothing. He released the submerged and struggling young man and swam to shore as quickly as he could.

JD, finally released, emerged from beneath the water -- sputtering. When he saw Buck swimming away at a frantic pace, he took chase. If Buck wanted to race, well, he'd be up to it. 

Buck had finally reached the shallow water and started running through the shallows when a tall, dusty-looking man appeared on the ledge where Ezra had been a few minutes ago.

"You boys come on outta that water now, nice and slow," the stranger uttered.

Buck staggered onto the bank and tried to push his way past another dusty-looking intruder, redheaded and built like a wrestler.

"Ezra!" Buck shouted again, his heart pounding.

"Stay put!" ordered a third man, blond and short. He wore tattered Union Blue, with loose threads where an insignia had once been. Buck vaguely noted his own gun-belt was looped over the ex-soldier’s arm, along with Ezra's and JD's. He held Ezra's Remington on them.

"Ezra!" Buck shouted again.

"Buck," came the reply from the rock above them. "Please, do as he says."

The tall man reached down and yanked the southerner to his feet. Buck's eyes narrowed as he saw the blood that coated Ezra's side, the bullet wound at his shoulder.

"You don't want me to shoot 'im again, do you?" the man asked, placing the gun against Ezra's temple.

JD was at Buck's side by now, both of them in their dripping-wet underwear -- unarmed and unable to do anything against these marauders. Dunne said nothing, staring open-mouthed at Ezra and the man who held him. The other men kept their weapons trained on the two wet lawmen, while the first one dragged Ezra toward the others.

"Where is it?" the redhead asked. "We know you got it."

"What?" JD asked, his voice was pitched higher than usual as he kept his eyes on Ezra. "You okay, Ezra?"

The gambler smiled ruefully, held tightly in the grasp of the tall man. "'Okay' may not be the correct term to use for this situation."

"The package!" the redhead insisted.

The gun wasn't lowered from Ezra's head and Buck gave JD a shove. "Get it!"

"Go with 'im, Devon," the tall man told the redhead.

"Hey, Bishop! Can I shoot the kid if he gets out of line?" Devon asked energetically.

"If it comes to that…" Bishop smiled and hoisted the gasping southerner fully upright again. Buck realized that Ezra had been slouching in the man's grip and he wasn't sure if it was because he was that weak or if the southerner was deliberately making it difficult for Bishop.

Buck hoped it was Ezra being his usual difficult self.

Buck glanced after JD, shadowed by Devon. When they disappeared from sight, his gaze quickly returned to Bishop. "We'll give you that package and you let him go," Buck stated, leaving no room for argument.

Bishop didn't like the tone of Wilmington's voice and pressed the barrel of the gun with greater force against Ezra's head.

"Mr. Wilmington," Ezra drawled with surprising calmness. "It may be best if we don't anger our guests at this moment."

"Shut up, Reb," the blond soldier barked at Standish, keeping his aim on Wilmington.

Buck glared at the short man, aware of the hatred he saw in those eyes. He turned back to Ezra. "Hang in there, Ez. We'll get out of this."

"I'll hold you to that," Ezra responded.

JD and Devon returned. Dunne was in the lead, carrying the box that they had only recently picked up from Ridge City. "They had it hid in a tree trunk," Devon laughed. "Covered it with leaves, too."

"Open it, Otto," Bishop instructed.

JD came to a standstill as the blond stepped forward and took the box from him. Otto fiddled with the lock for a moment then pulled a knife from his hip. Devon kept Buck and JD under his guns. Bishop continued to hold his own weapon against Standish's head as he watched the proceedings. The untended wound on Ezra's shoulder ran a rivulet of blood down his side.

"Let 'im go, now," Buck stated again.

Bishop just chuckled and kept his attention on the box.

Otto broke the lock with the blade and smiled as he pulled back the wooden lid. "It's here!" he cried, as he returned the knife to its sheath. "Look at 'em!" He dug his hand into the box and pulling out a bundle of papers.

"All of 'em?" Devon asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Otto returned, pulling one of the papers away from the others and examining it.

Ezra raised an eyebrow as he gazed toward the box and its contents and then sighed. "Railroad stock."

Bishop turned his attention to his captive, jerking him to stand straighter. "You know what we got?"

"The little drawings of locomotives in the corners gave it away," Ezra replied.

"Stock?" JD said in disbelief. "You shot him and robbed us for a bunch of papers?"

"Not just papers, laddie." Bishop grinned. "This stuff is worth more than gold."

"We're rich!" Devon crowed.

Bishop laughed and dragged Standish along with him. "Get these boys tied up, Otto. We got a ways to go today."

A disgusted look crossed Devon's face. "We got the damn box. It'd be better to just kill 'em."

"Yeah," Otto said, hefting the box under one arm and drawing his weapon again. "I get the Reb. I've been itchin' t'kill another of 'em."

"You think that this is over?" Bishop asked, his voice low. "No my friends, this is just started. We're gonna need some hostages. We still gotta get all the way to Hunter's Cavern to meet up with Tegan and the others." He nodded at Ezra. "These men are some of those peacekeepers from Four Corners. When these fellas don't come home on time, you can bet that someone's gonna notice."

 

PART 3:

"They're late," Larabee said, glaring at the clock in the town's jail.

Josiah shrugged. "Just by a few minutes."

"Should be here," Chris growled.

"They're probably just delayed a piece. Train may have been late."

"I told 'em that I needed 'em back on time. I left no room for bargaining."

Josiah grinned. "Well, maybe Chaucer came up lame again."

"Damn that horse," Chris grumbled. "As tricky as his owner."

The door slammed open, bringing both lawmen to their feet. Chris' Peacemaker leapt to his hand and found the target before the door had stopped moving. Josiah wasn't far behind with his Schofield.

The man who entered went through a quick change of expression. His face was first drawn up in a grimace of anger and determination. It was instantly replaced with a look of unguarded fear as he stared back at the armed gunmen.

"Pilgrim," Chris muttered, holstering his weapon and sitting back in his chair.

Russell Pilgrim leaned against the doorframe and held his hand to his heart. "Lordy…Lordy," he gasped.

"Brother, let me give you a few words of advice," Josiah said smoothly as he holstered his gun. "Don't do that again."

Pilgrim pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to mop his suddenly moist brow. "I had just come by to inquire…"

"Ain't here yet," Chris said, cutting him off.

The angry look made its comeback. "Mr. Larabee, need I remind you that the package in question is of great value and should have been here…" he paused to pull his pocket watch from his waistcoat, pausing dramatically before he continued with, "…fifteen minutes ago."

Chris glared at the man.

Josiah replied, "We know."

"Need I remind you that this parcel is very valuable to me? I believe that you and your men were informed that I wanted this package to reach me by noon today -- a time you agreed to." Pilgrim stepped forward, finding his courage. "If anything happened to it…"

"I don't give a damn about those railroad stocks, Pilgrim," Chris barked, sending the man back a few steps.

"Stock…?" Pilgrim looked surprised.

"Worth approximately twenty thousand dollars?" Josiah supplied.

"But...but!" Pilgrim looked between the two. "No one was supposed to know."

"I couldn't send my men after something that I knew nothing about," Chris returned. "Judge Travis filled me in."

Pilgrim shoved his hands into his pockets. "The couriers shouldn't have been told. The whole idea was to make this look as 'innocent' as possible. If they knew the worth of that box…"

"They'd didn't know," Josiah reassured, looking at Larabee. It had all been Chris' decision. He was the only one of the Seven who had known of the box's contents at the start of this. It was only after it was on its way back that Chris had told Josiah. Whether Chris' decision was a wise choice or not, Josiah couldn't judge. Time would tell.

Pilgrim grumbled, "If those men got curious though…"

Larabee glared at the man. "They'll get it here."

"But, it's not here yet," Pilgrim muttered.

"They're late by only fifteen minutes," Josiah said calmly.

"They were supposed to be here by noon," Pilgrim returned. "No reason for them to be late."

"What difference should it make if it's twelve or one o'clock?" Josiah asked.

Pilgrim looked at the preacher in disbelief. "It's my inheritance!" he cried. "I've been waiting all my life to get my hands on some of the old man's money. I had it sent as soon as the Will was read. Had Mum box it up and put it on the first train. It's mine and it was supposed to be here by noon."

"I'm certain we'll be seeing Buck, JD and Ezra any moment now," Josiah intoned.

Pilgrim gasped and his face went white. "You sent that con man?" He leaned against a chair as if all his strength had left him.

Chris had had enough. "It isn't any of your business who I sent."

"That swindler?" Pilgrim was beside himself with despair. "He's the one that tried to steal that money, isn't he? You left some ten thousand dollars with him, and he made off with it. Hell!" Pilgrim seemed to regain some vigor as he approached the desk. "That stock is mine! It's the only thing I ever got out of the old man. If it ends up linin' the pockets of that two-bit traitor…"

Chris was on his feet. "Get outta here, Pilgrim." His voice was low, ominous, as threatening as the rattle of a diamondback.

Pilgrim backed away. "The stock is mine!" He kept an eye on the gunslinger as he made it to the door. "If anything's happened to it, I'll have that charlatan hung." He backed through the door and slammed it on his way out.

"Sooner or later, he's gonna learn to stop doing that," Josiah said, trying to lighten the tension in the room.

"Damn it!" Chris knocked down his chair. "I told 'em, no delays!"

"It's only fifteen minutes, Chris."

Chris grumbled, "Yeah, but they should 'ave been here well before noon. I gave 'em no leeway."

"Something could have happened," Josiah said thoughtfully. "We should find out about the train."

"Damn that Pilgrim!" Chris kicked at the downed chair. "What if Ezra had looked in that box? Standish is as curious as a cat. I wouldn't put it beyond him to take a peek. Twenty thousand dollars worth of railroad stock was an awfully big temptation."

Josiah paused, knowing the truth in the matter, remembering what he had said to Standish in the church. The memory gave him pain. "Something could have happened," Josiah restated.

"Twenty thousand dollars..." Larabee glared at the clock. "Send a wire, Josiah. Find out if the damn train was late."

PART 4:

As the captors went through the camp, Buck was allowed to do what he could for Ezra. JD was tied a short distance away, watching with wide eyes. The outlaws didn't want both of the able-bodied captives loose. 

The three peacekeepers from Four Corners were still in their underwear, not being given a chance to dress. It would have been comical if the situation weren't so serious.

Otto and Devon rifled through the camp as Bishop stood guard over Ezra and Buck, watching Wilmington's attentive actions with indifference.

"You got the bullet still in there, Ez," Buck said worriedly, as he rocked Ezra forward, looking for an exit wound.

"So it would appear," Ezra gasped as Buck set him back down.

"He gonna be okay?" JD called from where he was tied to a low tree branch.

"Of course, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said with a wince. "Please, Mr. Wilmington, I think you've probed the wound enough now. We've both come to the conclusion that it's... damned painful."

"We're gonna have to leave it there," Buck said. "I ain't got Nathan's skill, and if I dig around, it's just gonna make things worse."

"Agreed," Ezra breathed out. "Many a man carries a little lead with him, wherever he goes."

"Jus' keep quiet now." Buck turned to Bishop and said gruffly, "I'm gonna need something for a bandage. I got some in my saddlebags. There's a flask in his jacket. I need it."

Bishop smiled. "I think you'd better ask a bit nicer, if you want anything."

Buck glared at the man but said as obsequiously as possible, "Please...sir..."

Bishop nodded to Otto. "Find somethin' to bind 'im up."

"You're givin' that fella too much freedom," Otto said, flipping a gun at Buck. "He'll cause trouble."

"Shoot the kid if he makes any move you don't like," Bishop continued coldly. Buck stiffened at this threat. He looked toward JD who returned a frightened expression. Bishop smiled, observing the exchange. "And put another bullet in the damn Reb if you want."

Otto laughed as he thought of the options, and turned to the southerner. "Love to. You killed a lot of my buddies, Reb. You'll pay for every last one of them."

Ezra gazed at Otto with hooded eyes. "Your friends," the gambler said quietly. "Aren't the only ones who died in that horrible war."

The blond scowled and tightened his grip on the weapon.

"Get some bandages, Otto, and try not to shoot anyone," Bishop said tiredly. "We gotta keep these fellas alive for awhile, at least until we meet up with Tegan and the others. Then we'll have six of us, enough firepower to take on their buddies. Until then, we'd better let them patch up this one. They got a long way to walk."

"Walk?" JD looked first to Bishop, then to Ezra. "We got horses..."

"Yeah, but Devon's nag up and died on 'im. He's been ridin' double with Otto for the last hour." 

Bishop smiled. "Hell, if you boys hadn't stopped here, we'd never 'ave caught ya."

Ezra groaned, which drew a concerned look from Buck. The southerner's eyes were full of shame, probably realizing the delay had been his fault. Buck gave him a reassuring pat on his good shoulder.

Bishop looked toward the three horses that were tied nearby. "I think we'll make use of yours. They look mighty fine to me. Otto's mare's half-dead after carryin' the two of them. You boys were goin' at a pretty good clip."

"The flask," Buck insisted. "He's got a flask in that green jacket there. I gotta give him somethin' for the pain. And I need those bandages or he'll bleed out."

"Maybe later," Otto returned.

"Give me the goddamn flask," Buck growled, lunging toward Otto, but stopping as the blond aimed the gun at Ezra. He felt Standish grab onto his bare leg.

"Buck," the gambler responded urgently. "I have no desire to add any more…perforations to my current…situation."

Otto found the bandages that were stored in Buck's saddlebags and then strode to the jacket that had been indicated earlier and felt the pockets. The flask was quickly found. He opened it and sniffed, then smiled before taking a gulp. "Damn!" he exclaimed, whistling appreciatively. "This is the good stuff!"

Bishop wrenched the flask out of Otto's hand and took a pull. "Oh yeah," he said, tossing the vessel to Devon who took a swig, and almost reluctantly, tossed it to Buck.

Bishop smirked, but Buck was damn happy to have the alcohol in his hands. Otto tossed him the bandages next.

Bishop stood over them for a moment, then growled. "Get him bound up. We're goin'."

 

PART 5:

Vin strode into the jail and regarded the two men who waited still. "They ain't back yet?" he asked.

"No, Vin," Josiah replied.

"How late are they now?" The tracker stood over the desk.

"Two hours," Chris replied. "Train was late by that much."

"They would 'ave made some of it up on the trail," Vin returned quickly. "Figure if they wanted, they'd have been here long ago."

"Yeah," Chris stated, glaring at a spot of ink on the desk.

"Something could have delayed them," Josiah commented. "Ezra didn't seem too keen on going, and you know how he has a way of -- manipulating things -- if everything isn't going his way." He paused and added, “He hasn't been too happy lately. Not since that whole incident with the money."

Chris snorted. “Almost ran out on us again.” He shook his head abruptly, remembering the shock of discovery. It had blind-sided him and he still hadn't entirely recovered from the mix of emotions that hit him on that day. Somehow, Chris had hoped he could trust the gambler. He had hoped that Standish was worthy of that trust. Larabee grimaced, feeling the burn of betrayal again. How could Standish do that to him? -- after working together for over a year -- after all that had happened -- after the second chance?

Just have to accept him that way, Larabee tried to remind himself. Just gotta accept the fact that I got a conman at my back. I knew from the start that he was a cheat. I know what I got.

Larabee continued in a bitter tone, "They're probably relaxin' somewhere."

Josiah chuckled. "I can imagine them tryin' to decide just how long they can push it before we come out after them."

Chris's frown deepened. "I gave 'em an order and I intend it to be kept. It's like Ezra does this purposefully to set me off."

"Ya don't trust him," Vin stated.

Chris stopped short as he considered this, rolling it over in his mind. "I 'spect I don't," he finally returned. "After what happened with that money -- not entirely."

Vin sighed. "You should."

 

PART 6:

The group moved slowly across the arid land -- three men on horses, three men on foot. Bishop rode his own mount, a roan gelding, and Devon was astride Buck's gray, Clyde. The redhead looked as pleased as punch to have commandeered the beautiful animal. Otto had tried to approach Chaucer, but found the animal lame and difficult.

It kept skittering away from every attempt to mount him. And when Otto cuffed him, the horse went after him, nearly biting into his forearm.

"Best put down a creature like that," Bishop told him.

"Chaucer, behave," Ezra had quietly ordered, as Buck helped him to his feet. Chaucer's ears had twitched in confusion as he craned his neck to see his owner, nickering. "Behave, my friend. Please!" The words had become more urgent.

The horse quieted, but the weapon didn't drop. Ezra went on, desperately, "He's a horse of excellent breeding, and would be worth a fair amount were you to bring him to the right dealer -- well worth the trouble, let me assure you."

Bishop nodded to Otto and the blond finally holstered his gun and then claimed JD's bay, finding Toby a more than adequate mount.

Buck and JD and had tried to cajole, plead, bargain and demand that Ezra be allowed to ride, but they were met with disregard. A still limping Chaucer and Otto's tired sorrel were relegated to pack animals. The prisoners would walk.

"Damn it! Ezra's not gonna be able to make it all the way to Hunter's Cavern on foot!" Buck had finally yelled.

Bishop had shrugged in response. "You keep 'im movin' then. If he can't go no more. I'll kill 'im easy enough. I 'spect two hostages will be as good as three."

They had been allowed to dress, after their clothing was thoroughly searched, so at least they had some protection from the sun. JD's hands were tied together and a rope secured him to Otto's pilfered horse. He was on the far side of the group and ahead of the other captives. Devon traveled in the middle, with the spare horses tied behind -- making any contact between JD and the others difficult.

Buck was bound to Bishop's saddle by a long rope attached to his right arm. He used his left to help steady Ezra, to keep him moving. Although Standish could walk, it was obvious that he wasn't going to make it very far without assistance, and begrudgingly the outlaws had allowed Buck to help.

Ezra's injured arm was tightly bound in a sling. His other wrist was attached to a rope, secured to Bishop's saddle. He seemed to be doing well enough, leaning against Buck's offered arm from time to time, but managing to keep up without much trouble. 

"My apologies," Ezra muttered when he stumbled against the ladies' man.

Buck pulled Standish along with him for step, saving himself from getting yanked by Bishop's horse. "You're doin' fine, Ezra."

"Afraid I'm slowin' you down."

"We got our pace set by those fellas ahead of us, so it ain't as if you're slowin' anythin' down."

Ezra sighed and said quietly as they walked, "Wish I'd been put in charge of the box instead of you."

"Yeah?" Buck grinned. "You think you could 'ave kept this from happening if you had?"

Ezra smiled. "Certainly."

"How d'you figure that?" They kept their voices low.

"I'd have looked inside, discovered the worth of the contents and made away with the stocks before Mr. Bishop and his compatriots laid hold of us."

Buck nodded, keeping a grip on his charge. "Yeah, sure, Ez."

"You see, this wouldn't have happened. I'd be safe from harm... and rich. You and Mr. Dunne would ... simply have been given the task... of explainin' how it happened to Mr. Larabee."

"That'd hardly keep ya safe, Ez." Buck whistled. "Lordy, can you imagine? I can just see that ol' vein in Chris' head a throbbin', his eyes gettin' all big, while JD and I try to explain how we let one wily card sharp out of our sight with all of that expensive paper. You'd never be safe after that. Chris would be on your trail like a bug on honey."

Ezra nodded. "True, Mr. Wilmington. I suspect I'd have to watch my back for a piece."

"Yer whole damn life," Buck countered. "Ya think Chris would let a thing like that go?"

Ezra smiled again and shook his head, nearly unbalancing himself. "I'd suspect not. But you must remember, I'm rather persistent myself." Ezra picked up the pace and stood a bit straighter, taking his weight off of Wilmington's arm.

"That you are," Buck returned. "But somehow, I figure that it wouldn't be worth it. Sure, you'd be rich, Ez, but think of the consequences."

"It'd be worth it," Ezra said knowingly. “For that much money. Money, after all, is all that I truly care about.”

They walked for several minutes with Buck just holding onto Ezra's arm to keep him steady, but soon enough, Standish was beginning to lean into him again.

"Ya know," Buck started after the silence. "I don't believe that for a second."

"What don't you believe? That I am incapable ...of walking on my own?" Ezra realized what he was doing and tried to straighten again.

Buck held him firm. "Ya crazy, stubborn idiot," Buck growled between his teeth. "Let me help you or we'll never make it."

Ezra sighed. "I suppose I must."

"Yeah, ya must," Buck agreed. "And you're gonna understand that I don't think you'd 'ave taken those papers."

"Their value must be well over $10,000. Perhaps even $20,000."

"So why's that matter?"

"You seem to forget the matter of the assassins' money... and my inability to resist the temptation of it."

Buck frowned. "Yeah, well..." He knew there was more to that whole situation than was ever said. He had been rather involved with the beautiful Louisa at the time and had missed most of what went on. Maybe, if he wasn't so distracted, he would have noticed that something was wrong with the gambler -- for certainly something must have been. Buck couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how all that money ended up in Ezra's jacket. It seemed as if Standish had been about to leave town with it, and that realization had hit Buck rather hard. What had driven Ezra to make that decision?

Buck had noticed an unusual glumness had settled on the gambler after the discovery of the money. There had been no time to inquire, no time to ferret out what was bothering the little weasel. The days that followed the attempt on Mary's life had been complicated by a marriage proposal to Miss Louisa. By the time Buck had concluded that he couldn't follow her into a life on the road, Ezra had been released from Nathan's care. 

Ezra had seemed to be back to his regular cheerful self, but often – when Buck caught him in an unguarded moment – a sadness dimmed his usually bright expression. Time had worn down that unhappy look and, as the weeks passed, Buck thought that all was back to normal. Apparently, it wasn't.

Ezra continued with a note of defeat, "If I'd known the worth of that parcel...you can be assured... that I'd be gone like a shot, with that fine cedar box tucked into my saddlebag…leavin' you in the dust…to face Mr. Larabee's wrath."

"I don't believe that."

"So, are you callin' me a liar?"

"No, I'm ... wait. Yeah, I AM callin' you a liar."

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "It seems ... I cannot escape slander."

"Look, Ezra," Buck said tiredly. "I don't know what the hell happened with that money. All I know is a lot of what went on just wasn't right."

Ezra nodded. "Yes, I agree. I never should've been put in charge of the satchel, that's certain. Never should have been allowed near it. The outcome was inevitable."

"That ain't what I was sayin'!"

"The concerns proved true. I behaved exactly as everyone expected. I am, after all, a liar, a conman, a thief, a traitor. Everyone now has their proof.”

Buck frowned deeply, understanding. "Well, I don’t exactly believe that, and I ain't everyone. You know that."

"Considerin' the sum involved, the events that followed… weren't surprising. The temptations arising from the value of the satchel…surpassed any obligations owed toward the town and its regulators. Proved the fact …that I'm not to be trusted around money."

They walked a few strides further as Buck contemplated Ezra's words. Finally, Wilmington said, "You and I both know that there are a lot of things that are worth more than money."

"Name one..."

"Hundreds of things... thousands of things..."

"Name one..."

"Well, the touch of a beautiful woman." Buck brightened at the thought. "Sure, that's one. Definitely somethin' I couldn't do without."

"You're well aware, Mr. Wilmington ...that such charms... can be purchased."

"Hell, Ezra, I don't have to pay! The ladies, I think, would be willin' to pay me if it came to that."

"Hmm," Ezra uttered as he continued onward, leaning a little heavier on Buck. "Pay you? I'm tryin' to picture you as a common gigolo."

"A what?"

Ezra furrowed his brow. "A man who sells his body for money."

“I know what one is. Jeez, Ezra!” Buck hissed indignantly.

Ezra continued, his eyes closed, “Perhaps you could...come up with something that cannot be purchased."

"Damn it, Ezra. There's lots of stuff."

Ezra stumbled again and Buck, delayed in keeping him upright, received a jerk on the wrist from Bishop's horse that almost toppled the pair.

"Keep a movin'!" Devon ordered unnecessarily.

Buck glared at Devon, and was about to say something to him, when JD called across to them. "Ya doin' okay?" He leaned forward, trying to see under the horse that Devon had commandeered. Otto had fallen back slightly and the prisoners were now evenly paced.

"Right as rain, Mr. Dunne," Ezra muttered, watching his feet -- determined to keep moving. "How much further... Mr. Wilmington?" He seemed to be having difficulty catching his breath.

"Not far," Buck replied. He tried to maneuver Ezra's jacket out of the way to see if the bandage was still in place, but he couldn't manage it and keep a grip on the southerner at the same time. He could smell blood, but he wasn't sure if it were fresh or not. "It's just around the corner."

"You lie, badly. It's no wonder ...that the ladies ...never fall for your lines."

"HA!" Buck exclaimed. "The ladies love my lines. Did I ever tell you about Miss Daisy in 'Frisco?" He waited a minute to see if there was going to be a response, and not receiving one, he continued, happy to have something new to talk about. "The prettiest little flower you ever did see, and loved every story I had to tell. But, she was a gold-digger. I think she wanted nothin' less than a Duke or one of those Lord So-in-so's to hang onto. Well, I had her convinced that I was the Dauphin of France and... "

"Dolphin?" JD interjected. "She thought you were a fish?"

"Dauphin," Ezra corrected. "A title once used for the eldest son of the King of France."

"She thought you were a prince? Buck, you're so full of crap," JD uttered, still trying to see under the gray horse in his way, desperate to join in with the conversation that he had previously been excluded from.

"Now, listen here, boy!" Buck shouted.

"Quiet!" Bishop barked. He directed a glare toward Otto, and the blond brought Toby to a quicker pace, pulling JD forward again.

"Besides," Ezra continued, too low to be heard by anyone except Buck. "A dolphin isn't a fish. It's a mammal."

"Dolphin is a mammal!" Buck called across to JD, even though he couldn't see him any longer.

"What's a mammal?" JD returned.

Bishop's eyes were wide with rage. He drew his gun and aimed it at Ezra's head. "I said, 'QUIET'!" If you don't shut the hell up, I'll take him out now!"

Buck turned a hate-filled gaze at Bishop, but shut his mouth and said nothing more. Instead he listened to Ezra's raspy breathing.

 

PART 7:

"Anything?" Vin asked, as he walked into the saloon.

Chris had given up on waiting in the jail and had moved to their regular table in the tavern. "Nothin' yet."

"How late are they now?"

"Been about three hours." He felt for his pocket watch and brought out the relic for scrutiny. "No, goin' on four now."

"Fine," Vin stated, turning quickly and heading toward the door.

"Vin?" Chris called, stopping the tracker's progress. "What're you figurin' on doin'?"

Tanner turned. "Goin' after 'em."

"Probably coolin' their heels somewhere, or on their way home by now." Chris drummed his fingers on the table in agitation. "I tell ya, when I get my hands on 'em, they'll find out how…"

"They're not so stupid," Vin returned. "Hell, Chris, I can imagine 'em stoppin' for a piece, but they're four hours late now."

"Train was late."

"All of two hours. This makes no sense a-tall. I'm goin'. They're in some sort of a fix. I know it."

Chris stood stiffly and headed toward the door. "I'm comin', too."

"Better get Nathan and Josiah," Vin included. "May need 'em."

"Josiah's at the jail still. You get him and I'll track down Nate. We'd best be ready for anythin'."

"Sure, cowboy," Vin said with a grin. "I'm ready for some action."

Chris nodded. "Let's ride!"

 

PART 8:

They had been walking for hours. Buck was thirsty and god-awful tired by the time they finally came to a stop. His arms and back ached from carrying the extra weight. The sun was hot and he was grateful when the canteen was passed around. He sat down on the ground beside Bishop's roan and checked Ezra's bandage as Standish took the first turn at the canteen. The wound was bleeding slightly and was warm to the touch.

"I need somethin' new to add to the bandages. These are bleeding through," Wilmington demanded. The request was ignored as the three outlaws talked in low voices.

"You guys doin' alright?" JD asked, reaching for the canteen when Ezra offered it.

"We're holdin' our own," Buck replied.

"Are you gettin' tired, Buck? I could help…"

"SHADDUP!" Otto yelled, grabbing the rope that bound JD and giving it a yank, effectively jerking the canteen away from of his mouth. "We ain't changin' nothin', so you just shut yer hole!"

"I'm doin' fine," Buck responded with a nod to the kid. "Ain't a problem." He heard Ezra chuckle and shake his head at this statement. Buck fretted with the bandage and grumbled at his inability to make any headway with it. "I swear," the ladies' man mumbled. "When we get back, I'm callin' Larabee out!"

Ezra chuckled again. "Get in line, Mr. Wilmington."

"Callin' him out?" JD asked in wonder. "Why? Why would ya do that?"

"He knew what was in that damn box, that's why!" Buck returned. "Knew what he'd sent us for. Ya think he'd let us know what we got? Hell! If he'd just told us, we might not be in this fix. Why didn't he say something?"

"Because of me," Ezra said softly. "Figured I'd take it."

"Naw, that ain't it," Buck said with as much certainty as he could muster. He looked up at the outlaws. The three had put their heads together. Otto pointed in one direction and Devon in another. Bishop regarded both of them with a frown.

"They're lost," Ezra observed.

"Yeah," Buck agreed. "Don't know necessarily if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Heck, Buck," JD interjected, handing the water to Wilmington. "Maybe we should tell 'em how to get there. It'll be nice and cool in that cave." He looked toward Ezra, who was staring listlessly at the ground. "We gotta get outta the sun, quick."

Buck took another quick swig and then held the canteen for Ezra. It took a moment to get his attention. The gambler seemed to awaken from a daydream and reached languidly to catch the canteen that floated in front of his face. Damn, Wilmington thought, as he encouraged him to drink what was water left. He wished they had enough to douse the overheated southerner. 

"Yeah," Buck said. "Would be a good thing t'get out of the heat."

"Except, you're forgetting," Ezra said once the last of the water was gone. "They will meet up with their... friends at that point. They'll be six instead of three."

JD frowned. "Is that so bad?"

"Yeah," Buck replied.

In far too short a time, their captors came to a decision and the procession continued its way toward Hunter's Cavern.

 

PART 9:

Standish was still moving, still going forward, but his usual graceful stride was slow and sluggish. They were getting yanked more often than before. The rope cut cruelly into Buck's torn wrist.

That didn't matter though -- what mattered at that moment was that they continued forward. Their captors were on the right trail again, talking gleefully about the $20,000 and what they would do with it once they met up with their friends. Bishop had already decided that the three men who waited at Hunter's Cavern were only going to get a small portion of the money -- they hadn't participated in the 'daring' capture of the three dangerous lawmen.

Buck figured that Bishop and the others would just leave out the part that their prisoners had been in their drawers at the time. -- that they had fired on a man who was half asleep and defenseless. Bastards! He tightened his grip on Ezra when he felt him falter. Won't letcha down, Ez, Buck thought.

Buck kept an eye out for JD. Mostly he saw only Dunne’s back, but he did catch sight of the young man's face as he glanced worriedly through the intervening horses. Buck had tried calling to the kid more than once, to shout reassurances, but was threatened into silence by Devon's pistol. At least they let him talk to Ezra, as long as his voice was kept low.

"Ezra."

"Buck."

"What do you think's gonna happen when we make it to Hunter's Cavern?" he whispered.

Ezra sighed deeply, keeping his eyes in front of him as he walked. "It won't go well."

"Six of 'em..."

"Yes."

"They may think that's enough to take on the others."

Again Ezra sighed. "Yes."

"Could be they won't need us anymore."

"We would become... burdens to them."

"If we got any luck, Chris and Vin and everyone is on our trail right now."

"Perhaps."

"We can count on 'em to get us out of this."

"Hmm," Ezra voiced and nodded slightly. "But will they ...reach us in time?"

Buck nodded. The pace of the horses had kept them at a quick walk and there was no sign of them changing. Wilmington turned toward JD, but the kid was too far forward again to speak to. 

"We gotta come up with a plan."

"Indeed," Ezra replied. "I've been ...considerin' it."

"You come up with anythin' yet?"

"Not as yet."

"You'll let me know if you do?"

"You can depend on it."

Still, as they walked, Buck knew that he couldn't count on Ezra to move quickly in an escape. Ezra was having trouble just keeping up, leaning more on Buck every minute. Wilmington would have to reach JD and come up with a plan. Between the two of them, they should be able to get away with Ezra. He just wished he could get closer to Dunne.

Devon chuckled when Ezra nearly fell. Buck managed to keep him upright and avoid another jerk. The redhead shook his head and smiled, flicking his gun in their direction. "If he goes down, he stays down."

"Yeah!" Otto said happily, looking from one of his friends to the other. "And I'll be the one who shoots 'im! I plan to put a bullet 'tween the eyes." He aimed to show his intention.

Buck tightened his hold on Ezra, twisting to block the gambler. "You can go to hell," Wilmington growled.

Otto just smirked. "Looks like he's about to go there himself. Lookin' a mite feverish. Hey, Bish, let me do him in now. He's slowin' us down."

Bishop glanced over his shoulder to the men roped behind him. "I ain't slowin' none yet. Soon as he puts an anchor on us, you can do it."

"Come on," Otto implored, his voice taking on the whine of a spoiled brat. "Let me pop 'im. You got your chance already."

"Makes sense, Bish," Devon added. "He's just a load right now. I think Otto's got the right idea."

Buck heard Ezra suck in his breath, and perhaps even tremble slightly. "Won't let it happen, hoss," Buck whispered fiercely as they plodded onward. "Ain't gonna give 'em a reason. I'll keep us goin'."

"Not plannin' on…slowin', Buck," Ezra returned.

Bishop looked annoyed. "Think of it this way, Otto.... We're prolonging his agony a piece."

The blond regarded the prisoners. "Yeah," he said. "He'll be keelin' over any minute now." He aimed at Ezra again, jerking the gun back as if he'd fired, accompanying the action with a, "Pow! Pow!" Otto grinned, seeing the baleful look from Wilmington. There'd been no reaction from the gambler. The outlaw faced forward and nodded to Bishop. "I'll wait. Let him suffer a bit more."

They continued in silence for a time. After several minutes, Buck could hear Ezra muttering something. He had to listen carefully to hear what the gambler was saying -- a cadence that he repeated over and over again.

"Left and then right…left and then right..." Ezra intoned as he moved his feet across the sandy soil. "Left and then right…"

Buck said quietly, "You're doin' fine, Ez. We're gonna make it. I gotcha." He sighed as Ezra stumbled again. It took a second to catch their balance, and the two of them were yanked forward by the progress of the horse.

"Sorry," Ezra mumbled.

"S'alright," Buck replied, trying to ignore the pain in his wrist and the growing ache that radiated across his back. It wasn't Ezra's fault in any case, but rather the bastard's on the horse. Buck's gaze bored holes in Bishop's back.

Ezra did his best to pick up the pace again, to walk without assistance. Buck wondered how much longer he could keep the stubborn southerner moving.

Long as it takes, he decided.

 

PART 10:

"So, where do you think we'll meet up with 'em?" Nathan asked as they stopped for a moment, on their way toward Ridge City. The horses snorted and tossed their heads.

"Way I see it, " Vin stated, "they didn't stay on no trail. They got that 'package' that they were aimin' to keep safe." He looked to Chris. "It were a damn shame that no one let 'em know what was in there."

Larabee sighed. "It was for the best, Vin."

The tracker shook his head sharply and asked, "Best for who?"

"If they didn't know what was in it, they wouldn't act like they were carrying something worth all that money," Larabee explained. "It was safer that way."

Vin just huffed and turned his eyes on the route before them.

"Something bothering you, Brother Vin?" Josiah asked.

Vin chewed his lip for a moment and then asked, "Are we goin' out there to see if somethin' happened to 'em? To see if they're okay? Or are we goin' out there 'cause you think Ezra took that dang box and you want to drag him in to jail?"

"I didn't say that," Chris said sharply.

"You ain't given Ezra an inch," Vin returned. "Not since that whole business with the Stutzs' money."

"He did take it, just like I figured, Vin," Nathan reminded.

"I suppose it's in his nature," Josiah thoughtfully stated. "He can't help himself. When you put Ezra near money, he just gets this itch that he can't ignore. Can't salve it 'til he scoops up all the cash he can carry. Some men just give in to their most base desires." The preacher winced, remembering a temptation in a church, and a young man looking for guidance -- who found only accusations.

"Almost like a sickness, I figure," the healer continued the sentiment. "He just can't help it. Maybe it's just how his mother brung him up. Figure we can't blame him too much for it."

Vin glanced at Nathan and Josiah, trying to keep the hostility from his eyes. He had heard a little about what had gone on with the assassins' money, but he never quite understood it all. Now things were making more sense to him. No wonder Ezra's been so damn depressed lately.

"So how's the rifle different than the money?" the tracker asked.

"What do you mean, brother?" Josiah replied.

Vin fingered the stock of the beautiful weapon, shoved under his saddle. He remembered the almost sensual pleasure he had felt the first time he had seen it. He had wanted the weapon so badly that he hadn't even thought about rightful ownership, prior claims or what was right in the law. It was like a blue haze took over his mind. Once he'd touched the rifle, he had to have it as his own. He'd been blind to most everything that went on around him once he had it in his possession. It was almost like a drug…a sickness.

Josiah shook his head woefully. "I wish I could have explained it all better to him." He raised his hand and let it drop in defeat, knowing that he hadn't even tried. He had condemned himself for his detestable desires, and then sloughed it off on the surprised gambler. How long had Ezra avoided that desire to grab hold of the money? Had he fought with the desire, or did he just give into it without a protest -- as one Josiah Sanchez had?

"I'd meant to help." Sanchez explained.

"Help?" Vin looked incredulous. "'Spect I need 'help', too. How is it that nobody said a word when I took this here rifle for myself, yet when Ezra wants to split the money seven ways, everyone tears into him for it?"

"That's different," Nathan replied.

"How?"

"Well." Nathan paused. "It was blood money."

Vin pulled the lovely rifle from its place, and held it under his arm. "Ya sayin' that this rifle had nothin' to do with killin'?"

"It's just…" Nathan tried to explain. "Well, you know how Ezra is with money. He just gets kinda… mixed up when he wants some. Gets to where he don't know what's right."

Vin sighed and tossed the ill-gotten weapon across to Chris. "I 'spect this should go to where-ever the hell you sent that money. You know how I am with firearms. I get mixed up, too."

Chris caught the rifle one-handedly. "You done?"

"Nope," Vin replied sharply. "I’m pissed. I jus' don't see how ya'll can light into Ezra like you've done and yet let me get away with takin' this."

Chris shoved the weapon under his own saddle. "Ezra was trusted to take care of that money. He ended up trying to run out on us… again! After the second chance I'd given him…"

"Trusted?" Vin shook his head. "You didn't trust him, not a whit. You didn't even give him a chance to be trusted. Ya'all just went around spoutin' off what ya thought about him, I reckon. What didja expect him t'do with ya'all tellin' him how he's no good? You talk about second chances, but you didn't give him a bit of a chance."

"Brother," Josiah said with a sigh. "This isn't helping us to find them."

"Yer right, Josiah, it ain't," Vin tugged at Peso's reins and took off at a gallop, with the others after a moment's pause.

 

PART 11:

Buck was heartsick. Ezra was failing on him. God, Standish was hardly able to keep his feet anymore, stumbling and wheezing as they went along. Buck looked across to JD, who watched them with fear-filled eyes.

Ezra, for his part, was trying his hardest. He continued to mutter his mantra..."left and then right, left and then right," as he moved his feet before him. The words were becoming more slurred, and he could hardly lift his legs, dragging the toes of his boots.

"Come on, Ezra, you can do it," Buck whispered huskily. "Left and then right, come on, pard. Left and then right. You're doin' fine." Through the heat of the day, Wilmington encouraged him onward. He knew that Ezra wouldn't be able to make it much further, but he'd be damned if he let anything happen to him. No, not while Buck Wilmington was still breathing. He'd carry Ezra over his shoulder if it came to that, if only they'd let him. And, dang, it looked awful close to that point now.

Finally, near a small stand of trees, they came to a halt. A little oasis bloomed in the desert beside a spring. The three horsemen looked at one another and Bishop came to a decision. Buck heard Ezra utter a sigh of relief as they adjusted their path to the group of trees.

Thank God, Buck thought. Finally! It would give him a chance to check up on that bandage again, maybe get it fixed up... get a decent amount of water into Ezra ... let him rest a piece. Maybe Chris and the other's could catch up. Lord, let us stay here a while, Buck prayed.

The moment the horses stopped, just within the copse, Ezra sank wordlessly to his knees, like sugar melting in water.

"You're gonna be fine, Ez," Buck said, catching Ezra before he slumped too far. He watched as their captors dismounted. Otto and Bishop went to the little pond first, taking their fill while Devon kept watch.

Ezra's chest was heaving from the exertion of the forced march. Buck checked the bandage, swearing as he pulled back Ezra's jacket and found the binding stained with blood. "Damn it, Ezra," he growled. "Why didn't you say somethin'?"

"What could be done… Mr. Wilmington?" Ezra asked. "It would only cause you … undue worry … and they weren't about to ...let us stop to tend this...little problem."

"Little problem..." Buck grumbled as he tried to adjust the bandage, but it seemed a pointless endeavor. "Gotta get somethin' new," he said. "Maybe we can get 'em to give up what's left in that flask." He pressed his hand to Standish's forehead and groaned. Damn it, he was far too warm.

Ezra followed Wilmington's movements lethargically. Finally, their eyes met again and Buck said, "You're gonna be fine."

"What did...I tell ya... about your lyin' abilities...Mr. Wilmington?"

"Ain't no lie," Buck lied. "We're gonna make it through this." God, Ezra couldn't even sit up by himself. Buck seriously doubted if he would get Ezra on his feet again. The southerner was completely played out. Water... where was the damn water?

Devon glanced at the two and decided that they were harmless. He untied JD and ordered, "Fill up them canteens. We gotta be goin'." He then untied Buck from the saddle, leaving the rope to dangle from his arm, and the horses were taken to the pond to drink. Clyde, Chaucer and the sorrel mare were left tied as they were and had to fight against the tethers to get to the water.

"Get him up," Bishop ordered. "We're only stoppin' long enough to drink. We got a long way to go yet."

Ezra watched him with a dark gaze, thinking and planning.

"I need some water here!" Buck shouted. "And he's gonna need to rest up a bit."

Bishop sighed. "Remember what I said: If he can't make the distance, he'll be shot. Larabee won't miss this gambler. If you can keep him movin', I'll let him live."

Otto laughed and turned to the pond, washing his dusty face.

JD squatted beside the water, looking back at Buck and Ezra as he submerged one of the canteens. He would get this first one to Buck and Ezra right away, but if he moved slowly with the rest of the canteens, they might be allowed to stay here a little while.

"Buck," Ezra said softly, between his gasping breaths.

"Take it easy now," Buck said. "You gotta get some strength back. We're gonna need it when we get goin' again."

"I was thinkin'," Ezra whispered. "I was thinkin'... that perhaps... it's time that we ...took these gentlemen up on their offer."

Ezra closed his eyes and rested his head against Buck as Wilmington listened. "What the hell?" Buck finally blurted out. “What're you talkin' about?”

"Obviously...I will not be able... to walk much further," Ezra gasped. "It took everything... I had to make it …this far. It's time I stopped. It's pleasant here...nice...awful nice."

"Damn it, Ezra!" Buck barked. JD looked back toward them as he continued to fill the canteens.

"It would be for the best...Best for ...everyone."

"Now you shut your mouth," Buck whispered fiercely, hoping that none of this conversation reached the ears of the men who held them. "Don't you even start talkin' like that. I ain't gonna give in to them bastards and you ain't either. Look, I'll getcha on my back or somethin'. We'll get 'em to let JD help. We're gonna..."

"Buck..." Ezra continued breathlessly. "We've played by their rules... long enough. It's time we ...made up some of our own." He paused, trying to collect his energy. "I should stay here."

"Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let 'em shoot you again, Ez. Ain't no way."

"If we play our cards right… they won't be the ones... who will do the deed." He looked up at Buck, green eyes intense with fever. "You will."

Buck paled. "Now wait a minute...just one cotton-pickin' minute!"

"We must convince them ...that you're the one... to perform the task. Your aim will be true...won't fail."

"Shut up!" Buck hissed angrily. "Shut the hell up!"

"We must convince them... to use my own equipment. I'm a gentleman of course... and will only ...succumb ... under the most genteel circumstances."

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Buck turned his back to the others, hoping to keep the talk unheard. "I ain't doin' no such thing, ya stupid son-of-a-bitch!"

"Buck," Ezra paused again, drawing in a deep breath and speaking even softer, "I've come up with a plan. Something that will end this ... foolishness. Something we may all…survive. All three of us. I cannot be certain of the others. Their odds are lower."

Buck smiled in relief, glad to stop that previous conversation. "Well, it's high time! How we gonna get word to JD?"

Ezra exhaled slowly. "I'm afraid we'll have to leave... young Mr. Dunne... to discover our intentions...on his own." He smiled numbly and added, "He'll catch on. I have no doubts... of his intelligence. He'll understand."

"Yeah, but I gotta understand this first of all."

He stopped for a moment before continuing. "We must employ... subterfuge...distract them with some...sleight of hand..." He wanted to lift his right hand to make a delicate gesture, but it lay like lead in his lap. He let the comment go unaccented.

"What are you getting at?"

"There's one thing...that must happen...the rest is mere costuming." Ezra smiled as he tried to catch his breath. He couldn't lift his head from Buck's chest. He licked his lips. "In my left saddlebag ... is a doeskin pouch ... where I keep my blanks..."

Buck finally fell silent, listening. Ready for a plan... Any kinda of plan.

 

PART 12:

The four men wandered around the quiet lake. Vin knew about the little paradise and had figured that Buck, JD and Ezra might have used it as a resting spot along the way. It was obvious that someone had recently visited the lake; a fire had been lit earlier that day and a few scattered items identified who had been here.

"That's JD's match-case," Josiah said as he picked up the forgotten item.

"Yeah, and that would be Ezra's shaving kit," Nathan sighed. "Always wants to look his best."

"Appearances are everything," Josiah said with a small smile, trying not to be alarmed at finding these forgotten items.

"Left in a hurry," Chris surmised unhappily.

And then they saw the blood.

"Seems like we found what delayed 'em," Vin said with a glance to Larabee. Chris said nothing, so Vin began a search. Tanner walked slowly about, finally drawing himself up on the high rock platform that overlooked the lake. "Lot more blood here," he said plainly. "Gunshot, I reckon."

"Who?" Nathan demanded. "Who got shot?"

Vin frowned as he searched for a clear print. He followed the trail of blood. "Whoever it was…he was barefoot."

"Whydo you think that was?" Josiah asked, watching Vin at his work.

The tracker was too busy concentrating on his task to respond. They were at a lake, damn it! Of course the boys had been swimmin' or somethin'. Hell, Ezra was always sneakin' off to go swim somewhere. Some folks just don't seem to notice nothin'! Vin thought.

After a bit more work, Vin finally surmised, "It's Ezra."

"Damn it," Chris mumbled. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Vin said solemnly. "Print is too small for Buck."

"How do you know it's not JD?" Nathan asked.

Vin let out a breath. "'Cause he's alone more than anythin'. Laid down over there for a bit. Looks like he was patched up by Buck, I reckon," Vin said, making note of the large footprints that were muted in the chaos around the area.

Nathan tried to draw what answers he could from the evidence they had. There was a torn shirt, stiff and brown with blood, more blood on the ground. He set his jaw, trying to figure what he would be facing when they caught up with Ezra and the other two.

"How many got 'em?" Chris demanded.

"Three," Vin answered. "They went off that way. Let our boys get their boots on at least. Hope they got more on that just that. Sun's been hot today."

Chris nodded curtly. "Let's go."

Vin paused a moment. "They got our guys on foot, by the looks of it."

"If that's the case," Josiah pondered, "they couldn't have gotten too far."

"Been a while," Vin countered. "You can get a ways on foot if you got the time."

"If Ezra's been shot..." Josiah tried.

"You can still get a ways," Vin returned. He pointed to the prints. "Pace ain't slow. We'd better get goin'. We'll catch 'em. We got a trail to follow now." He strode to Peso, who nickered at his approach. "Looks like Ezra didn't take that box after all." Vin mounted and looked down to Larabee. Nathan and Josiah looked skeptical.

"So why'd ya send Ezra, Chris?" Vin asked bluntly as he turned his horse. "Why, of all people, didja send the one man ya thought would take the stuff and leave ya high and dry?" He saw the smoldering anger in the gunslinger's eyes, but continued anyway, "Were you testin' 'im?"

Chris mounted his own horse and faced the trail left by the others. One of his men was hurt, at least one, and in the custody of three men who weren't above causing pain to their captives. He could feel the rage building in him as he stared off in the direction they had taken. Nobody hurt his people without paying the price. He glanced at Josiah and Nathan for only a moment, before he set Job to the trail without answering Vin's question.

 

PART 13:

JD wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He was ready to bring a canteen to Buck and Ezra when he heard Bishop talking to them.

"Get him up."

"No."

"I said, ‘get him up’."

"He can't go any further."

"Then he'll die." Bishop declared. "You want me to call Otto over? Or should I kill him myself?"

A pause. "I'll do it," Wilmington replied. "I'll be the one who does it."

JD leapt to his feet, forgetting the canteens and the outlaws. He was only able to run three steps closer to Buck and Ezra before Devon slammed him to the ground. "Enough of that, sonny!" Devon barked.

"Buck?" JD shouted in disbelief. "What're you sayin'?"

Buck didn't even look toward JD; he kept his eyes on Bishop and his arm wrapped around Ezra. "I'll be the one that fires the gun."

Bishop smiled and looked to Otto who stood with his mouth open.

Buck continued, "I'll do it quick. It'll be painless." Ezra hadn't lifted his head from his chest. Buck could hear his labored breathing. What the hell am I doing? Wilmington thought.

"No, Buck! NO!" JD struggled to get out from under Devon, but the redhead had him trapped, a knee in his back.

"Keep still, pup, or you'll be next!" Devon growled.

"You 'spect us to give you a gun?" Otto asked incredulously.

"One bullet," Buck said evenly.

Otto spat into the dust. "We ain't that stupid."

"You can keep your guns on me while I do it." Buck turned to JD, not really looking at him. "Keep a bead on JD. I won't shoot no one but..." He kept a tight grip on the man who leaned against him. "Won't shoot at no one but Ezra."

Bishop laughed. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees, and laughed a deep hearty guffaw. He brayed as JD continued to struggle under Devon's knee.

"No!" Dunne shouted. "Don't do it, Buck! If you're tired, I can help him. I can do it. Please, Buck! Let me help 'im. I'll do it! Let me!"

 

"One bullet," Buck repeated. "Give me one bullet."

"No...no...no," JD moaned. He pounded on the ground, frustrated at his inability to dislodge Devon. "Please, Buck... We can carry him, the both of us. I'll carry him myself. Please, Buck...I can. I will!"

"I'll do the shooting," Buck said again, glaring at Bishop.

Bishop shook his head in amusement. "Sure, lawman," he laughed. "I'll letcha kill your friend, if that's what you want."

"But you said..." Otto started. "You said I could do it!"

Bishop shrugged. "Changed my mind. I'd rather see his buddy do the deed. It'd make it more... interesting." Bishop smile and said, "Larabee can't blame any of us if his own man does the deed." He smiled.

Otto kicked at the dust. "But you said..."

Bishop gave Otto a tired look and then grinned at Wilmington. "What will it feel like to shoot your friend, huh? Bet it burns in your gut. Bet it eats at you like acid. Bet it tears."

"No...no..." JD continued to chant as he watched the proceedings.

Ezra finally raised his head. His eyes fixed on Bishop's gun, and said, "I will not be executed by ...such a crude weapon."

Bishop smirked. "It's what got you your first hole. I 'spect it can finish you."

"I purchased my sidearms ... at great expense. They've been treated with ... the utmost care..." Ezra sucked in a breath and continued. "If I'm to be executed... I wish it to be done ...on my terms."

"Won't make a difference," Otto said, intrigued now by what was going on. "Dead is dead." He smiled as he looked at Buck and then pulled Ezra's Remington from his own holster and emptied it. "I 'spect it wouldn't make no difference to me. Might be fun." He shook his head. "Looks like you're gettin' your weapon back, Reb. Or, at least a piece of it."

Ezra shuddered as Buck clutched at him, keeping him upright. "At least..." Standish started and paused again, as if mere words were too much for him. "At least, allow me the final request ...of using only the …best bullet available."

Otto laughed this time. "Best bullet available? You gotta be kidding."

"I've just purchased...such items. Imported from Germany...the best ammunition made..."

Bishop held his gun loosely, listening. "German, huh?"

Ezra nodded toward his horse. "A doeskin pouch …in the left-hand bag. They cost me a packet...for certain. Dollar apiece. I'm told... they're worth the expense."

"Get 'em, Otto," Bishop said, smiling mildly. "I want to see what these dollar-apiece bullets look like."

Otto approached Chaucer with trepidation. The horse glared at him, thunderstorms flashing in those brown orbs. The chestnut shifted back and forth, as if finding a perfect stance to commence an attack as the man came into range.

"Behave, Chaucer," Ezra said quietly. The horse glanced at his owner, ears twitching, and then he lowered his head in resignation. Otto quickly snagged the saddlebag off of the horse and back-stepped away, aware of the threat still evident in those eyes. The order might have stilled the animal’s actions, but it hadn’t taken away the hatred.

Otto rooted through the receptacle until he found the soft leather pouch, and then opened it up to gaze at the items within. He pulled one out and held it between his fingers. "What's so special about these?" he asked. "There's a funny mark here..."

"A hallmark...mark of distinction."

"Feels kinda light."

Ezra chuckled softly. "Made by ... skilled craftsmen. A little gunpowder...goes a long way."

Bishop stepped up to Otto and snagged the charge from him. He stared at it for a moment, running his finger over it, noting the blunt tip. "So this is what a dollar buys? Waste of money if you ask me," he muttered. He held out his hand for the Remington, and Otto handed it over.

"I get it back when he’s done!" the blond said petulantly.

"Sure, Otto," Bishop soothed as he fitted one bullet into the chamber.

JD watched in horrid fascination. "NO!" he cried as Bishop snapped the cylinder shut and twisted it the right chamber. "You can't do this! No! You can't!" His rocked his weight back and forth until Devon cuffed him savagely across the back of the head.

"Quiet down!" Devon ordered.

Bishop smiled and nodded to Otto. The blond pocketed the pouch and unholstered his own gun and pointed it at JD's head. "You be good, ya little snot," Otto said. "We'd rather keep two hostages until we make it to Hunter's Cavern, but I 'spect we could make it with just one."

Dunne stared wide-eyed at him, and then turned his gaze back to Ezra and Buck. The gambler was looking at him disinterestedly. "Please..." JD moaned. "Please, Buck... No..."

He watched as Buck pulled Ezra to his feet. Ezra staggered and Buck caught his weight, giving him a moment to find his balance. Then, Buck dragged Standish into the shade of the trees, beside the little pond. There, Buck carefully helped Ezra to sit down, to lean his back against the trunk nearest the water. He squatted for a minute beside the southerner and neither said a word. Ezra just smiled back at Buck and nodded. Wilmington, for his part, could coax no smile to his face.

Buck walked back toward Bishop, dragging the rope that was still attached to his wrist, pulling it as if he dragged the weight of the world.

JD was still crying out monotonously, "No, no, no." -- a background noise like the whir of cicadas or the babbling of a brook.

Bishop handed the gun to Wilmington. "One bullet. You aim it anywhere else but at that bastard Reb...and I kill the Reb and the kid. May have to put a hole in you, too."

Buck nodded sharply, taking the weapon from the outlaw.

"Please, Buck..." JD cried softly. "I'll carry 'im. Please... let me, Buck...I'll do it. Let me try. I can get him there. Even if it's hard, I can do it." A sob caught his voice. "Don't do it, Buck! Don't do it! Please...it's Ezra. It's Ezra, Buck!"

Buck didn't hear him, didn't hear anything as he raised the gun. He sighted down the barrel, aiming it at Ezra's chest. Ezra met his eyes and again smiled reassuringly. And then, perhaps realizing that the smile only hurt the shooter, he looked away.

Wilmington remembered a similar scene that played out in a dirty town between himself and Chris. As he aimed, he recalled that it was Chris who pulled the trigger during that Purgatory charade. It’s the same thing, he told himself. No difference. I was fine. Lost my boots, but I got ‘em back.

Gotta get him out of the sun, Buck thought, trying to work up the nerve to pull the trigger, as he gazed at his pale friend. Get him off his feet. Let him rest. He won't make it if we keep draggin' him along. He's half-gone now. It's just a blank. Gotta do this now, while he's still got some strength to take care of himself. He'll be better off if we leave him...alone.

Nathan and the others are coming. They must be coming. Oh, God, what am I doing? He’s so goddamn weak. He can’t survive here alone. How can I leave him here to die alone? The gun trembled in his hand as he aimed it at Ezra, who kept his eyes averted. Buck fought the urge to lower it. I can carry him for a while yet…

"No...no...no..." JD continued to moan, watching it all unfold.

…but if I drag him any further, he's as good as gone. Here – alone – he stands a chance. Buck pressed his lips tightly together, trying not to think, trying not to imagine anything beyond the fact that he was doing what he could to save his friend.

Buck didn't even hear the report of the gun, didn't feel the weapon kick. He saw Ezra jerk backward onto the trunk and then fall forward in a heap. Bishop wrenched the gun from his hand and Buck stood, stock-still, as Otto sprang forward to investigate.

The man in Union Blue pulled Standish upright for moment, grinning at the sight of the bloody chest, and then he let the body fall forward. Buck did nothing. He couldn't move... he couldn't hear.

Bishop shoved him, his mouth split by a wide grin and laughing soundlessly. Otto walked back toward them, grinning and flapping his gums. Devon was still holding down JD, smirking. Silence. It all seemed so unreal... so unbalanced and strange. He couldn't catch his breath. Buck turned to JD, who lay with his head down, hidden in his arms. The young sheriff heaved in soundless sobs as Devon continued to sneer and press him to the ground.

Ezra didn't move. He had fallen forward beneath the tree, his face against the earth, one arm splayed out beside him. The entire scene had the appearance of some outlandish tableau. Buck remembered a presentation he had seen several years ago. It had been put on by a group of citizens in a fleabag town out in the middle of nowhere. They had illustrated scenes from the Bible, striking strange silent poses. He had thought it all a bit macabre at the time and had wanted to leave the little demonstration as soon as possible. He felt the same need to flee at this moment, amplified a thousand times. He wanted to be anywhere but here -- seeing this.

In a snap, nearly everyone was in motion. Bishop drew his weapon and leaped backward. Otto turned sharply, with a look of alarm, yelling. Devon jumped to his feet in panic and JD finally was out from under him. Only Buck and Ezra remained in their poses.

Sound returned to Buck with the furious scream of a horse. Chaucer had gone wild, bucking and slashing his feet, bellowing as if he'd been laid open. He was still tied to Clyde and the sorrel, and the two horses careened about on their short tethers, trying to get some distance from the enraged animal. The two other horses were all that kept the outlaws from meeting the vicious hooves of the quarter horse.

"Shoot it!" Devon was shouting, trying to get away from the darting animals, to avoid those thrashing hooves. "Kill the damn thing!" Otto had drawn his own weapon and trying to aim at the moving target.

Buck watched in horror as JD ran toward the enraged horse. "No, JD..." he whispered, unable to raise his voice.

JD didn't stop. He ran right in amongst the bolting group, directly toward the berserk beast. Hooves thrashed. Teeth slashed. JD reached into the midst of the chaos and grabbed onto Chaucer's reins. "Chaucer... Chaucer..." he called urgently.

The chestnut horse rolled his eyes and reared up again, his teeth exposed in an awful foamed grimace, hooves lifting. He landed, then arched his back and bucked. Clyde shied away, just barely getting clear of his herdmate’s hooves.

"Step away from it!" Otto shouted, raising his gun. "Damn it, I'm gonna shoot that thing before it kills us all."

"Please, Chaucer, please..." JD called urgently. "Behave, Chaucer... behave," he cooed, remembering the word Ezra had used. "Chaucer, behave." He tried to calm the animal, running his hands along the creature's neck, stepping quickly to avoid getting trodden. He had to trust that the horse wouldn't hurt him -- Ezra trusted this horse -- he could, too. 

"Please, don't let them shoot you, too... not you, too. Oh God, Chaucer, they can't take you, too."

"Get out of there!" Otto ordered, as JD continued to run his hands along Chaucer's neck. Otto tried to draw a bead on the horse, but Chaucer wouldn't stop moving. The other two horses and the kid kept getting in the way.

"It's okay," JD murmured. The horse gazed at the young man, his eyes wide and white. "It's gonna be okay," JD repeated as he worked to quiet the angry animal. "Please, Chaucer," the young man begged. "I'll take care of you. It'll be okay."

The horse finally stopped its rage-filled actions and came to a standstill, letting JD grasp hold of his bridle and bring his head down. He stroked the horse's big head, talking softly, soothingly, "Shush now. Shhhh."

Chaucer trembled, and jerked his head around as if he didn't know what to do. He tried to yank away from the kid, but JD held him firmly. "Please be good," JD begged frantically. The young sheriff petted him slowly and whispered, “I'm gonna miss him, too.” 

Suddenly, the horse snorted, dropping his head over Dunne's shoulder. JD wrapped his arms around the horse's neck and wept openly as Chaucer gave a mournful little whiney.

Buck could only watch as JD and Chaucer comforted each other. He stood helplessly, a silent observer.

Bishop shook his head. "That horse better be worth more than a dollar." He spat and said, "We'd better get goin'. It'll be faster now that we got rid of that dead weight."

"Come on, kid," Otto ordered, stepping forward to grab Dunne out from under Chaucer's head. The horse snapped malevolently at the man, catching the cuff of his jacket. It was only JD's quick intervention that saved the horse again from Otto's gun. Dunne calmed Chaucer and then stepped away and allowed his hands to be tied once more. The horse followed the young man with his eyes, and then dropped his head in utter resignation.

Devon collected the canteens. Bishop soon had Buck's rope secured to his saddle, and the small group was moving again. Buck glanced back at the tree, where Ezra lay. Damn, Buck thought. Ezra had better be all right. As weak as he is, we're just leaving him...alone. It's better than making him walk any further, though. It's better! Chris and the others are coming. It won't be long. He's still strong enough to take care of himself for a while.

Yet, that crumpled form beneath the tree looked so damn lifeless! How could Ezra be left behind like that? God, I can't let him die all alone. But what other choice was there?

Buck tried to catch JD's eye, wanting to say something, wishing he could get close enough to explain it all, but JD wouldn't look at him. The young man's eyes were set far ahead, staring into the empty distance as they continued their journey toward Hunter's Cavern, walking again through the empty country.

They climbed a low hill and Devon's horse jerked to a stop before they lost sight of the oasis. Otto and Bishop glanced at Devon who was looking over his shoulder. "Come on now," the redhead said angrily, jerking on Chaucer's taut reins.

The chestnut whinnied once, his head held forward by the reins, but his eyes rotated back toward the form that was still visible. Buck looked back as well, but JD never changed his gaze. Ezra lay as he had fallen, in the shade of the tree, beside the little pond - as still as the rocks that surrounded it.

"Behave, Chaucer," the Dunne said, his voice flat, his eyes fixed, and soon they were all pulled forward and away from the scene.

 

PART 14:

Ezra remained perfectly still. When Otto raised him up, he forced himself not to breathe, to make no sound. When he was dropped again, he used every ounce of willpower to not groan at the pain.

He listened and pondered, trying to keep his breathing quiet. He had been shocked by JD's reaction to the little scheme -- nearly terrified by it. He never expected it. 

Lord, JD might've been killed! What in the world had he done to deserve that sort of defense from the young man?

And then Chaucer was nearly shot! He thanked God for JD. What would he have done if his horse were killed? Chaucer was too fine an animal to meet his end for such a ridiculous reason.

He waited as the canteens were retrieved and the men tied up his friends again. Then they were led away. He waited... listening... waiting. He heard Chaucer's final mournful cry and then silence. He waited and then waited longer. He waited until they were long gone before he slowly raised his head to look about and see that he was completely alone.

With a sigh, Ezra moved one arm beneath him and maneuvered into a more comfortable position, groaning as he moved his hurt shoulder.

Water. He looked at the jewel-perfect pond and smiled. With some effort, he leaned over, dipped his hand into the water, and raised it to his lips. He paced himself, not giving in to his thirst. No, he knew better than that. He couldn't remember drinking a finer liquid in his life -- with more nuances than the costliest cognac, a more delicate bouquet than the most revered wines of France. He washed his face, feeling the delicious chill of the water. Funny, he thought, the water felt as if it had been drawn from a deep well, so cold against his skin. It should be warm, shouldn't it? The spring was shallow and the day was hot.

There was one good thing regarding the condition of his bandage. It was so soaked with blood that it had been mistaken for a fresh wound. He pressed against it, hissing with pain, hoping to stop the bleeding. He released after several minutes, hoping it was worth the effort.

It was so perfectly still here, as if the whole world had come to a halt around him. His head pounded, his wound throbbed, and he felt so damn hot. He knew he had a fever, but at least he had stopped moving, wasn't dragging Buck down any longer. Now that he was no longer a burden, Buck and JD might have a chance to survive this, and he was determined to do what he could to ensure that they did.

He knew that Buck and JD wouldn't have left him behind during an escape, no matter how he tried to force the issue. They were far too noble – noble to the point of stupidity. No, they wouldn’t be crafty enough to simply leave him and make a run for it. They lacked certain necessary self-preservation skills. It would be different, he told himself, if their positions were reversed.

He leaned beside the pond again, drinking in more water, hoping that he didn't get sick on it. Once his thirst was momentarily satisfied, he sat back again and felt in his pocket, drawing out a slim volume of verse. Their captors hadn't bothered to confiscate it. He located a lead pencil in his waistcoat pocket, and opened the book.

"Mr. Larabee," he wrote on the flyleaf. "It is of utmost importance..." He blinked and strained to form the letters. "...that you reach our compatriots, Mr. Dunne and Mr. Wilmington..." the damn words came so slowly. He ran his hand along his hot forehead. The cooling water had done nothing to quench that fire. 

He lowered his hand and stared at it a moment -- watching it tremble. He'd have to go faster. "...as they are in grave danger." This would never do. He decided to choose brevity to increase his odds of finishing the note before his strength gave out.

"Taken hostage by 3 men. Gone to Hunter's Cavern. Well-armed. 3 more men at destination. Will kill JD and Buck when no longer needed. Hurry." 

He leaned his head back against the tree, surprised that this small task had tired him so. He breathed slowly, trying to regain some strength, and then gazed back at the paper. The handwriting surprised him for it didn't look like his own. He reread what he had inscribed and then added, "Please. They need your help." Well, that was obvious, wasn't it?

"Please," he wrote again for no good reason.

Damn, this was difficult. He paused again, trying to find the energy to continue the note -- just a few more words. He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the world seemed strangely unfocused. He gazed down at the page and was unable to make heads or tails of it any longer; it was all a blur.

Well, it was pointless to continue. He moved the pencil to the page again and initialed the letter before he let the book drop from his hand, and he fell onto his side.

He grunted in pain as he made contact with the ground, and then rolled over slowly onto his back. The pencil skittered away into the pond, as Standish felt about for the book. He found the slim volume after a few moments of weakly searching about. Clasping it to his chest, Ezra finally allowed himself to relax.

He knew that Larabee was coming...and Vin... Nathan and Josiah too. They'd be coming…they must. If they weren't, then Buck and JD would be lost.

They would find him, find this note in time to save the others. Funny, he thought, he should have addressed the letter to 'whom it may concern' in the event someone else discovered him first. 

Why did he assume that Larabee would come? Hell, the man probably assumes that I took the box and that's why nobody showed up in town. He probably figures that JD and Buck are chasing me through canyons, arroyos, hog-backs and gorges -- that we're having shootouts in ghost towns and abandoned mining villages --that they are stalking me around dry-rotted saloons and fallen-down boarding house -- and lying in wait in quiet little forgotten homesteads.

Ezra blinked at the trees above him, so out of focus that they appeared to be only splotches of green and brown against the backdrop of the blue sky. There were so many other things that he wanted to write down. Perhaps if he just rested a bit, he'd find the strength to go back and finish the letter. Now where was the blasted pencil?

He wanted to thank them all -- Larabee, in particular, for giving him a second chance. Nobody had ever given him that opportunity before, and then he had squandered it when he tried to run out on them again during the Governor's rally. He wondered if Larabee would ever forgive him for that.

And Nathan, for his caring nature and for putting up with him, even after those comments he had made at their first meeting, in spite of all the animosity that came from their different perspectives, and due to his accent. He sighed, realizing that he had lived up to every bad expectation that the healer had of him.

He wanted to thank Josiah for his wisdom and for trying to put him on the straight and narrow path. No one had ever tried to do that before. Why Sanchez even bothered was beyond Ezra's ability to rationalize. He recalled their conversation in the church, and how he had once again failed the preacher. Sanchez had given him a choice and he'd chosen wrongly.

And JD, for his endless energy, his outstanding character, and for saving Chaucer from Otto's gun. Lord, what an incredible man Mr. Dunne was becoming. No, that was wrong -- what an incredible man JD always was. Ezra wished he had half the qualities of that young sheriff.

He wanted to show his gratitude to Buck for helping him walk all day long. I must have been an incredible burden to him, he thought. I hope he forgives me for any undue pains I caused him. He wanted to thank him for always being a friend. There are few men in this world as open-minded and amiable as Mr. Wilmington. Thank God I was able to make his acquaintance.

And Vin, for understanding him better than anyone else ever had before. Vin, for liking him in spite of that knowledge.

So little time, Ezra thought with a sigh as the blue of the sky gave itself up to large white blotches. He turned his head and gazed out over the pond, seeing little more than the sparkle of sunlight off the surface. He smiled, glad that he was near water. He'd always loved the water.

At least, he thought, at least I may be able to help Buck and JD, even a little. If I can only do that...my friends... my friends would be safe.

Friends, he turned the term over in his head. Up until a short time ago, he believed he had six friends, six true friends, but recent events had challenged that. The money! The damn Stutz money! Why had he taken it? Why had he given in? Too damned weak-minded. Too damned materialistic. Too damned self-centered.

And now there was this box of railroad stock that Larabee had neglected to inform them fully about. Why? Because the gunslinger was smart enough to realize that one Ezra P. Standish would take it. 

But, Ezra realized smugly, if he had only taken it, none of this would have happened. If the conductor had given the box to him instead of Buck, he wouldn't be hurt now and the others would be safe. Certainly, he would have inspected the package, peeked within to see what was so important about that shipment. He would have discovered its worth.

He would have taken it, wouldn't he? Well, that had already been proven as fact.

If he'd been able to get his hands on that box, he could have sent Buck and JD on some errand in Ridge City, could have distracted them as he slipped out of town with that box. Ezra knew how to hide his trail well enough; he had escaped from towns more often then he cared to mention. 

Certainly he could have dodged Buck and JD... disappeared into the desert. He'd head out into nothingness at first, following no set trail, and then he would have wended around toward some unspecified small town; disguise his appearance enough so that his regular description wouldn't match him. 

It would have required a less then reputable set of clothing -- a little dust and dirt -- stubble on the chin -- a change of habits. He could have stocked up on supplies and be off again.

He'd spend a week (at least) on the trail, meandering his way at first, picking up supplies when needed, resting his horse. Make his way toward some larger town and find a reputable dealer (actually, disreputable may be the better word)... sell off some of the stocks (not too much mind you, not enough to raise suspicion). Line his pockets nicely and then disappear again. 

Rich...he'd be rich.

After a month or so of such travel, he might reward himself with a night in a fine hotel (not the finest -- that would be too obvious), a sumptuous dinner, new clothing, a night on the town. And then he'd have to get moving again. Larabee would be looking for him, and Ezra was too wise to allow himself to be caught.

Yes, he'd stay on the move. He'd put down no roots, make no attachments to anyone or anything. It would be just him and Chaucer -- living the high life with all that money, more money than he had possibly hoped to possess -- constantly on the run. He'd be careful with it, of course, selling off only small amounts at a time, not allowing anyone to know he had so much -- a night or two of opulence and then back to the trail again.

Of course... there was always Vin to consider...yes, Mr. Tanner with his superior tracking skills. Ezra would use all the tricks he knew, but eventually he might slip up... eventually Mr. Tanner might be able to guess his next move and ... perhaps... eventually...he might be caught.

He'd be trapped by the six of them (they would stick together of course). Perhaps there'd be a shoot-out in a street... an ambush on a trail...maybe a bullet in the back at some dark saloon. No, not the back...Larabee wouldn't do that. 

Larabee would want to see his face when the deed was performed. Ezra tried to imagine the gunslinger's expression, but it was difficult to concentrate, and he couldn't quite picture the scene.

It would all end eventually, but what a ride!

 

PART 15:

Buck kept his gaze in JD’s direction as they continued their journey across the sun-scorched earth. It was much easier to walk now that he had been relieved of his charge. But, he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as if he still carried a weight.

But Ezra was safe now... or at least safer that he had been before. They had left him in the shade, with a source of water... alone. Buck trudged onward, hoping that the gambler was all right. He was so sick, so weak. Buck's only hope was that Nathan, Josiah and everyone was already coming -- that they had realized that there was reason for their delay. How long would that take?

When the positions of the horses allowed, Buck watched JD trudging onward, his gaze locked straight in front of him. 

"JD," he called, knowing that he'd receive punishment from their captors. "JD, look at me."

Dunne didn't turn, didn't seem to hear him. He continued to move -- eyes forward -- focusing into the distance.

"JD? Damn it, look at me!" If he just glanced at me, I might be able to give him a look that explained it all. Hell, how could that work? If he would just look at me... "JD!"

"Shut up!" Devon barked. "He don't like you no more."

The three outlaws laughed, and the procession continued. JD turned his head further away from Buck. He picked up his pace and disappeared from Buck's sight on the other side of Otto's horse.

"JD!" Buck called again.

Devon raised the butt of his pistol over Buck's head and glared menacingly at him. "Don't cha listen?"

Buck clamped his mouth shut. Shit, he wanted to talk to that kid, but it wasn't going to do any good to reveal anything here, and it certainly wouldn't help anything if he were unconscious.

Devon grinned and lowered his gun. "That's better," he said as he holstered the weapon. "Just keep yer yap shut."

They stopped for a short time and he was allowed to drink from a canteen. He hoped to see JD brought closer to him, but Dunne stayed on the far side of the group. When the canteen passed from him to Dunne, JD refused to drink from it and was given a different one. Otto laughed.

It would be dark soon. They were still a fair distance from Hunter's Cavern -- wouldn't make it before nightfall. Maybe they'd have a chance to escape in the darkness. The stop was brief and soon they were moving again. Buck looked toward JD, not seeing him due to the obstructing horses.

If he could only talk to JD, but why the hell would the kid even listen to him?

Buck vividly recalled the scene... shooting Ezra, his friend lurching and then falling forward... the blood...one arm outstretched...alone and hurt. I had to get him out of the sun, off his feet, let him rest a bit, he told himself. Nathan and the others are coming. Buck continued onward, hoping for the best, looking for an opportunity to get to JD and explain it, looking for a means of escape, to get back to Ezra. Damn, wish we could'a stayed with him.

Don't let him die alone.

 

PART 16:

The sky was growing dark. Vin had hoped that they would have caught up to the others by now. They were moving a good deal faster than the outlaws, but they still hadn't found them. He hadn't been able to figure out exactly where they were headed, as the trail seemed to wander a bit. He figured that the outlaws probably got lost for a while. With nightfall, tracking the inconsistent trail would become decidedly more difficult.

Vin looked up, sighting a small stand of trees. "There's water up ahead."

"Give us a chance to fill our canteens," Nathan said with a nod. "Water the horses."

"Good idea," Josiah agreed. "It could be some time before we find any more." He sighed and looked toward the low sun. "We may want to camp here."

"Nope," Chris responded quickly. "We'll just stop long enough to get some water and go on. Long as Vin can find a trail, we'll stay on it."

The four men approached the little oasis, with the tracker in the lead. Vin watched the trail turn toward the source of water. He could tell that Ezra was having a lot of trouble, hardly able to walk.

Why're they keepin' him on his feet so long? Cain't hardly keep his feet movin' by the looks of it. Must be some real bastards that got 'em. 

He tightened his jaw as he continued after the footprints and hoof prints left behind by the others and lifted his gaze from the tracks as he drew near the water, looking for any further sign. Suddenly, he sucked in his breath and kneed Peso into a gallop.

Something lay by the water's edge.

He could hear the others charging up behind him as he leaped down from his horse and fell beside the abandoned form at the little water hole. The gambler lay on his back, his face very pale, with bright spots of red on his cheeks; one hand was on his chest, covering a book, the other hand splayed out into the water beside him. 

Ezra's breathing came in shallow gasps.

“Ezra,” Vin called softly, knowing that there’d be no response. "Ezra, we're here now."

Nathan appeared and crouched down beside Standish, and ran his careful hands over him. Josiah grabbed Jackson's medical bag off his horse. "He's burning up," Jackson muttered. He moved Ezra's arm, tossing the book aside, to check the blood-soaked bandage.

"Get me a fire goin'!" Nathan ordered Chris. He turned to Josiah and issued the next command, "I need whiskey and fresh bandages, now!" Both men complied immediately. "This one's doing no good. I'm gonna have to replace it and see what's going on beneath."

Not receiving a directive, Vin pulled Ezra's head into his lap. Ezra responded by twisting in his grip and groaning painfully. "Hey, pard," Vin said softly. "Vin's here. Don't fret none." He settled Ezra carefully and then leaned over to the pond to dip a bandana into the water. He soaked the piece of cloth and started wiping down Ezra's too-hot face. "Gotta cool down a bit, okay? Don't want cha to be so hot."

Ezra opened his eyes for a moment, but didn't seem able to focus as Vin looked down on him. He moved his lips and said something so faintly that Vin couldn't hear it.

"Could ya say that again?"

The tracker barely caught the softly voiced, "Sorry," before the green eyes closed again.

Tanner furrowed his brow, wondering what the hell Standish had to be sorry for.

"Get a pot out. I need water boiling," Nathan directed Chris, not knowing if the fire was even lit yet. Josiah crouched down beside them, holding the items Nathan had requested.

"Dear Lord," Josiah said softly, as Nathan pulled back the soaked bandage. The wound was an angry red and oozing. He laid his big hand on Ezra's leg in sympathy and raised his eyes to Nathan. "Is the bullet still in there?"

Nathan nodded. "Seems so. They did the right thing by leavin' it alone. Lot of men livin' and breathin' around with led in them."

Vin turned toward the direction the men had left. He knew that Buck and JD were still out there. Now that they had left their wounded member behind, they would probably be moving faster. Gotta catch 'em soon.

He looked to Ezra, who started to shift his head back and forth in his lap. "S'okay, Ez," Vin muttered, clasping his hand around Ezra's chin to keep him still. "Nate's gonna take care of you." He used his other hand to pick up the now-warm bandana from Ezra's brow and dip it again in the water. He placed it carefully over Ezra's face again. "You're gonna be okay. We're here now. Not alone no more. Yer not alone," He repeated and then noticed the book, in danger of falling into the pond. Carefully, he picked it up, knowing that Ezra wouldn't want any damage to come to it.

He curiously flipped back the cover. "Chris?"

Larabee was busy tending the fire, frantically trying to get water to boil faster than was possible. "What?" he asked tersely.

"There's writing here and some bloody fingerprints, too."

Josiah was helping Nathan get ready to clean the wound, his face solemn and his eyes on Ezra's face. "People will inscribe things in books sometimes, Vin. Maybe someone gave it to him as a gift," he said patiently. "He was probably reading while he was waiting for someone to come and that's how the blood got there." Sanchez sighed, imagining that lonely scene.

"But it's kinda funny." Vin squinted at the writing. "Writing don't look so good."

Josiah reached out his hand, and Vin handed the book to him. The preacher noted the initials at the bottom corner and the trailing lines, so unlike the conman's usual precise penmanship. He grimaced and said, "Chris, it's addressed to you." Then he read the disjointed note aloud.

After Sanchez finished, Chris got to his feet. He looked to Standish and muttered, "You crazy son-of-a-bitch, he thought. How did you get them to leave you behind? Was it just so that you could get this note to me?"

They had just found Ezra and the last thing anyone wanted to do was to go, but they had to find JD and Buck, now that they knew where to look. 

"Nate," Chris said. "Would you be okay if we left you here alone with Ezra for a while?"

Nathan didn't look up from his work. "Stay 'til I'm done. I gotta get this cleaned up once I get the water boilin'. It's gonna hurt like hell, so I'll need ya'all to hold him. And I'm gonna need lots of firewood to make it through the night."

Josiah glanced toward their mounts who huddled near the water's edge. "Horses need to breathe a bit in any case or we won't get anywhere."

Chris responded with a nod and went off to search for more wood.

Vin watched Chris move off, and knew there was something that needed to be done. With a sigh, he moved carefully out from under Ezra's head. Standish moaned quietly. "S'okay, Ez," Vin said softly. "Won't be but a moment."

"Here, let me take your place, Vin," Josiah rumbled. "Won't be any trouble." He moved into Vin's position as the tracker stood. Tanner threw him a thankful smile, not wanting Ezra to feel alone anymore.

Sanchez easily maneuvered Ezra's head into his lap and he took up the task of trying to cool his fevered head, speaking softly and soothingly. "It's all right, son. It's all right," he said as Ezra tossed. "You're gonna be okay now." Josiah felt a sorrowful weight on his heart, remembering the sharp words he had used on Ezra not so long ago. Standish had come to him, looking for help and guidance, painfully speaking from his heart. Josiah had long waited for that day, wishing he could find a way to help the young man on the proper path. But reality never matched the dream. He recalled the look on Ezra's face when he'd lashed out at the young man -- he'd looked stunned, hurt, betrayed. Josiah realized that he'd taken the trust the gambler had offered, and dashed it to the earth.

"I'm sorry, Ezra," he muttered. "I had no business unleashing my demons on you."

Nathan looked up at his friend as he prepared the poultice, wondering what Josiah meant.

Chris stalked off into the growing darkness, looking for deadwood that would be suitable to keep the fire going. He struck out at a low limb in his frustration. He glanced up when he heard a quiet footfall near him and said, "I don't want to hear it."

Vin came out of the dusk and said, “Don't care. You're gonna have ta listen. I left Ezra so's I could say it.”

Chris bent down to pull at a likely piece of wood. "I know what you're gonna say, Vin. And you should know I already feel like crap."

"Wish you'd told 'em what was in that box," Vin said, toeing at a root to see if it was loose. "They might 'ave figgured a way to protect themselves then, 'stead of gettin' blindsided by this shit."

"You're right, Vin. What more can I say?" Chris grunted as he broke a dead branch away from a nearly barren trunk. "I made a god-awful mistake on this one."

"Wish we had all gone together."

"Yeah. Hard to know that at the time, though. It made sense to keep it quiet."

"Shit, Chris, it made no sense a-tall! What the hell were you thinkin'? How do you reckon on sendin' the three of them to get somethin' worth that much and not let 'em know what they got?"

"Less suspicious that way."

"Damn test! Why didn't you go with Ez? Just you and him. Would 'ave been smarter. You could 'ave kept tabs on 'im, see if he's failin' you at every turn. Why'd you have to risk Buck and JD, too? How do we know they ain't hurt as bad as Ez right now? How's it gonna figure in your test if they get killed?"

"It wasn't a test, Vin," Chris growled.

"The hell it wasn't!"

"Vin, what can I do to convince you?"

"Not a damn thing."

Chris sighed as he broke another branch from the dead tree. "I swear to you, Vin, it never crossed my mind when I sent 'em. I just figured that the three of them would do a good job of it. Besides, Ezra had been kinda quiet lately. Figured he needed some time out of town. God, Vin, what right would I have of testin' people? It isn't as if I'd pass any."

Vin met his eyes as Chris turned. The tracker studied the gunslinger cautiously for a long minute and came to a conclusion as he gazed into those fierce eyes. He was a keen observer of men and could spot a lie a mile away. What he saw in those blue-green eyes surprised him. "I reckon you're tellin' the truth," Tanner said and then smiled wryly.

Chris narrowed his gaze. "What're you smilin' about?"

Vin bent in to help Chris strip the dead tree. "You do trust him, otherwise you never would 'ave sent him."

 

PART 17:

JD sat where he had been dumped, his knees drawn into his chest, his head down. He pressed his back against a tree as the day grew dark around them. He had been tied to a low branch, but it was a rather pointless gesture, because he wasn't even trying to move. The horror of the day had quelled any desire to run. They weren't far from Hunter's Cavern, but their captors were hungry and wanted to stop. After supper, they'd be on their way again.

Dunne played back that horrible moment in his head: Buck saying that he'd shoot Ezra and then hauling their friend over to that tree, raising the weapon and gunning him down in cold blood. 

Oh God, Ezra shot -- dead. The outlaws laughing. Chaucer crying out as if he were being whipped. The horse was the only one who seemed to give a damn that Ezra was dead. Buck just stood there.

JD pinched his eyes shut, wanting to keep the images from returning, but they kept playing out.

He shuddered. The air was growing cool, finally allowing the heat of the day to leave him, but he couldn't escape the misery that had fallen on him. 

How could Buck have done that? Why didn't Buck let him try for a while? I could 'ave kept Ezra walking. I could 'ave gotten him this far. I could’a taken care of him. I wouldn't 'ave let that happen. I wouldn't 'ave shot my friend -- no way -- no how.

He sniffled and dragged his bound arm under his nose. How could Buck have done that?   
Bastard!

People approached him, but JD kept his head down. He didn't care who the hell it was. It didn't matter if it were the outlaws or Buck; all four men were his enemies now. 

He heard someone being shoved to the ground beside him and then tied to the tree. Devon admonished him and this newcomer to be still, but JD didn't lift his head to see who it was.

He knew it was Buck; of course, it had to be Buck, but at that moment, JD didn't want to recognize the cowboy. Didn't want to look at him, didn't want to have to hear his excuses. He turned his head and listened to Devon walking away.

"JD," Buck said softly. "JD! Kid."

JD didn't respond. He screwed his eyes shut and wished he could do the same with his ears.

"I didn't kill 'im," Buck said urgently. "Didn't shoot 'im."

"Like Hell!" JD finally growled. "You don't think I can see? You don't think I got eyes in my head?" He finally turned to Buck. His intense gaze met Buck's for the first time since the incident happened. "You killed Ezra! Ezra! Our friend!"

"JD, listen," Buck kept his voice to a whisper. "It's not like that. It's…"

"Don't you talk to me, Buck Wilmington! You'd rather kill him than carry him. Ya just didn't care enough to try, didja? Didn't even try…" JD's voice broke off in a sob. "I would've."

"It was a blank, JD. A blank!" Buck hissed.

"Son of a bitch," JD rubbed fiercely at his tearing eyes. "I wouldn't 'ave killed a friend."

"I swear, JD. Listen to me!"

"Not anymore. You're dead to me, ya hear?"

Buck's face showed the hurt of those words. Good.

Wilmington leaned closer to the young man and repeated distinctly, "It was a blank! It was his idea! A blank!"

JD's head swiveled as he suddenly realized what Buck was saying. He blinked. "A blank?" he whispered back.

Buck nodded solemnly. "He couldn't walk any further. He figured he'd be better off at that pond. I left him close to that water, in the shade. I didn't kill Ezra, JD. I wouldn't have done that for anythin'."

JD looked in wonder at Buck. A minute ago, one of his friends had killed the other... and he would never be able to forgive Buck. Now, Ezra was alive due to Buck. JD opened his mouth, trying to form a question, trying to say something, but no words came.

"We had to leave him," Buck continued quietly. "Lord, I had to leave him there alone. He's all alone, JD."

"He's alive?" JD finally voiced.

"Yeah," Buck said, his face still sad. "He was when we left him. He has water, shade. The others should be there soon."

JD uttered a small cry and leaned into Buck. With their hands bound, he was unable to give Buck a hug, but he certainly tried. Buck leaned against the younger man. Both were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, and needed each other's support desperately at that point.

Bishop and the others looked up when they heard the sound and saw the angry young man against the tall shooter. Whether they were laughing or crying was indecipherable.

 

PART 18:

Vin continued after the five horses and two men on foot. He kept the pace brisk, quicker than the ones who went before, determined to catch up to them before they made it all the way to Hunter's Cavern. At least they knew where to go, so there was no need to search out a trail. Vin was thankful that Ezra was able to give them this information -- it would get them to their destination faster.

Damn, they'd better catch those bastards before those outlaws made it there. At the cavern, the kidnappers have a stronghold and better odds -- six men against three. Vin preferred the even odds of three to three and he preferred taking them in the open. He was determined to do exactly that.

There were questions and fears circling through his head, but he pushed them aside. At this moment he had to complete this task -- had to catch these men -- free JD and Buck. Catch those outlaws before Hunter's Cavern. He'd manage it. He'd get this thing done.

Chris followed the tracker, with a red rage building in him. Damn them, he thought, damn them for shootin' Ezra and then makin' him walk all that way. Damn them for keepin' Buck and JD. His heart leapt at the thought that those two would be killed at Hunter's Cavern -- his oldest friend, that earnest young man. No, he wouldn't let that happen. 

Damn them for bringing up these damn doubts. He set his gaze on Vin's back, willing the tracker to hurry, to find these men before they went any further. Find those bastards and make them pay for what they had done.

Josiah took up the tail end of the group. He prayed as he rode: prayed for JD and Buck -- that they were safe still; prayed for Vin -- that he would keep them on track in spite of the darkness; prayed for the three of them -- that they'd make it through this unscathed. 

He prayed for Nathan, left alone with Ezra, and for Ezra as well, so damn sick and pale. Please, dear Lord, take care of that young man. Don't take him from us.

God help us all.

 

PART 19:

He was sick. He was sick and tired and weak and felt like hell. "Couldn't help m'self." He moaned.

“Ezra?” A voice reached him. Who?

"S'my nature..." Ezra muttered, trying to explain. "Ya should've known."

Someone shook him gently. "Come on, now. Wake up. Gotta getcha t’drink somethin’."

"Can't be trusted..."

"Ezra!" the voice spoke again, and someone shook him a little harder

He opened his eyes blearily and stared up, not recognizing the shape above him.

"Good morning," the shape said and the night that surrounded them. 

Ezra felt miserable. His shoulder smoldered in pain, and he felt too weak to move. Splotches still danced before his eyes, and he was hot...so damn hot. Everything felt so disconnected and wrong. He'd been running, hadn't he? Running from the others… the six… running with the detestable box. A sense of panic shot through him as he recognized the blurred face above him. 

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, it's me. Who else you think would be here?"

Oh, God, they've caught up to me. Running out yet again… taking that box of stocks. Betraying them all. How'd it happen so quickly? He could hardly remember spending the money. 

Certainly there should have been some joy in that to remember. Why did he just feel so damn tired and god-awful hurt instead? He tried to adjust his position, but stopped quickly at the pain that arced through him.

"Don't move, Ezra. You've been shot."

"Shot?" Ezra asked in amazement. Then it was true. They had gunned him down. Justice was served. "Who? Who shot me?"

"I figured you'd be the one to tell me that," Nathan returned with some concern.

Ezra paused, considering, and then asked quietly, "Was it Chris?"

"Chris? You know darn well it wasn't Chris."

"Thought it would be him," Ezra said hollowly. "Not Vin." No, not Vin. He'd be dead if Vin caught him in his sights. Besides, the thought that Vin would shoot him -- Vin who understood him better than the rest -- pained him to the core. Of course, if Vin understood him so well, it only stood to reason that he would be the one who did it.

It couldn't have been Buck… But of course, Wilmington probably had shouldered the blame for his escape with the railroad stocks. That must have festered a bit, stinging the easy-going man. Wilmington could be a bear if his ire was up.

JD? My Lord, if it were that fine young man…

"Josiah?" he asked. Could the big preacher have done the deed? Ezra's mind went back to that moment of weakness in the church, when he actually sought guidance from Sanchez and was attacked for it. He'd failed Josiah miserably in the end. Never again would he seek such help. "Did Josiah shoot me?"

"Damn it, Ezra. He wouldn't have shot you," Nathan said ardently, as he worked an arm under the southerner and sat him up. "They're your friends."

Ezra sighed. "Was it you?"

Nathan said nothing for a moment, noting the look in Ezra's pained and unfocused eyes. He picked up the cup of water that had been waiting beside him. "No, Ezra. Listen to me. None of us shot you. We're your friends. We've been chasing you down, tryin' to catch up with you all this time." He held the cup to the gambler’s lips.

"I know," Ezra replied as he took a sip, and then some more. "Sorry."

Ezra let Nathan hold him up and help him drink. When he was released back to his simple bed. 

He said again, "Sorry."

"What are you sorry about, Ezra?"

"Betrayal. For takin' it."

"Taking what?"

Ezra looked bewildered. "The box... the stocks... worth more than...more than..."

Nathan paused, resting his hands on his knees, his eyes wide with wonder. "You took that box?" he asked. "Is that what started all of this?"

 

Ezra nodded slightly. "Apologies..."  
"You took it?" Nathan's voice was incredulous. 

"Sorry." Ezra looked ashamed. "Truly, I am. Wish I could 'ave…" He tried to meet Nathan's eye, but couldn't. "It was a mistake. Typical…"

A memory flashed through Standish. The image of Buck raising a gun at him, the shot. My God! 

Ezra looked back toward Nathan. "It was Buck," he said sadly, his voice heavy. "Buck shot me." He sighed then fell back into a troubled sleep.

 

PART 20:

Exhausted, Buck and JD leaned against each other as the slept. The group had stopped long enough to prepare a supper and rest the horses, and since it appeared that no supper would be provided for them, the captives took the opportunity to rest. Something woke Wilmington, the call of an owl in the night. He listened to it, waited for the quiet call to repeat. It did.

Wilmington elbowed JD, and the sheriff came awake blearily. "Get ready, kid," he said.

"What?" JD shook his head, too worn out to awaken with any ease.

"Things are about to get hoppin'." Wilmington glanced about the camp. Bishop, Otto and Devon were just getting ready to go.

The five horses all showed their weariness, but Chaucer looked the worst of the lot, his head was down and his tail hanging stiffly. The usually spirited horse looked beaten and forlorn as he stood among the others. He had lost that plaguing limp when they left that little pond, only to replace it with a trudging stride. 

Otto approached the chestnut with great caution, but the horse showed no flicker of movement; he just continued to stare off into nothingness, and when the blond outlaw tugged at his reins, he followed without balking and without raising his head.

Devon was packing up the cookware as Otto tied the two packhorses into position behind Buck's gray. Clyde nickered at his friend, but Chaucer gave no response.

Bishop looked toward his companions and said, "Time to get movin'. We should be there in about an hour or two."

Devon stepped toward the two bound men and crouched before them. "You should be thankin' us," he said to Buck. "We sure made things a lot easier on you by gettin' rid of that load." Otto laughed as he stood beside the horses. Devon continued, "I'll miss that Reb of yours, but it sure was fun watchin' that sack of shit die."

Buck, unable to hold back his temper any longer, lashed out with his foot, catching Devon in the chin. Devon's head shot back as he lurched. He tried to catch his balance, failed, and slammed onto his back.

Otto drew his gun, aimed at Wilmington's head and, with a smile, pulled the trigger. The report filled the air.

Another shot fired an instant later, and Otto lurched and fell forward. Devon jumped to his feet, only to be knocked down again by a large man with graying hair. Bishop stood abruptly, but a man in black calmly stepped before him.

"Damn it!" Bishop swore, reaching for his gun.

"I wouldn't try it," Chris said evenly as Bishop's began lifting the weapon clear of its holster.

"He's awful fast." Vin gazed over his mare's leg at Otto, who curled on the ground, grasping his shoulder. 

Tanner glanced to Buck, terrified over what he might find. He had seen Otto fire -- didn't prevent it. He'd been stealing up on the campsite at the time, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He figured he'd find his friend dead beside that tree. He smiled broadly to see Wilmington shaking his head in disbelief and JD staring open-mouthed.

"Damn!" Buck said. "That was whisker close."

Otto, seeing the tracker distracted, lashed out at the rifle. His hand caught the barrel, knocking it from Vin's hands. The second the weapon took to the air, Otto was on his feet again.

"Son of a bitch!" Vin growled as he took off after the little outlaw.

"Now," Josiah said, as he leaned onto Devon, "that wasn't a smart thing to do. He's got Vin riled, and Vin's temper has been awful tried lately." 

Devon glared back at him. Pinned as he was, he was unable to reach his weapons and could only sigh in resignation.

Bishop raised his hands above his head as he regarded Larabee. He was a smart man; having heard of the gunslinger's speed, he felt no need to test him.

Vin ran into the blackness, easily catching up to the injured escapee. He jumped at him, wrapping his arms around him and driving him to the dirt. Otto came up armed with Ezra's confiscated Remington. Otto struggled to his feet, ran a few paces, and then aimed vaguely at Vin. He smiled as he fired.

The shot missed.

He wasn't given another chance to misfire, as another shot, sharper and louder, sounded nearby.

Otto was still for a moment, a stupid, stunned expression on his face, the gun clasped loosely in his hand. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead. He looked as if he meant to take a step forward, but instead he collapsed to his knees and finally fell face-first onto the ground.

Vin got to his feet, shaking his head. "That man had the worst aim I ever did see," he said as Chris appeared beside him, gun still smoking in his hand. "Either that or he's got one piece-of-shit gun."

"I'm damn glad of that," Chris replied as he picked up the ill-fated weapon, recognizing it as Ezra's and not understanding how the well-cared-for weapon could have performed so poorly.

The two quickly returned to the company of Josiah and the others. The preacher had Bishop and Devon under close watch. Sanchez smiled to see both Chris and Vin return unharmed. "I think our brothers are anxious to be loose," he intoned.

Vin approached Buck with a smile. "It's good to see you in one piece, Bucklin," he said, cutting loose the ropes binding his hands.

"Ezra!" Buck said urgently, absently rubbing his sore wrist. "He's back at that water hole..."

"We found him. He let us know where to find you," Josiah said with a nod. "He's with Nathan now." 

Buck sighed in relief.

"Is he okay?" JD questioned as his ropes were cut away.

Vin grimaced. "Dunno. Didn't look too perty. We'll go back and find out."

"We still gotta get those fellas at Hunter's Cavern," Buck added reluctantly. “Not gonna let any of these bastards go.”

"Three of 'em." Chris nodded. "Shouldn't take us too long to get there."

"Yeah," JD agreed. "Those guys at the cavern won't even know what's comin'."

"We'll have a definite advantage," Josiah said, taking up a bandana and gagging Bishop, the closer of the two outlaws. "Don't think we should leave these troublemakers here on their own. We just gotta keep these boys quiet as we go."

Chris held the Remington that he had removed from Otto, shaking his head in disbelief. He glanced first to Buck and then to Vin. "Thought I'd lost the two of you when that little shit fired. Either he's a piss-poor shot or you got a guardian angel lookin' over both of you." He spun the cylinder and then opened it, dropping the remaining bullets into the palm of his hand.

"Maybe not an angel," JD said as he rubbed his sore wrists. "But we got someone lookin' out for us, that's for sure."

Chris scrutinized the bullets, weighing them in his hand. A smile formed across his face. "Raided Ezra's private stock?"

Buck stood with some difficulty, stiff from the long walk, and crossed the distance between the two of them. He pulled one of the bullets from Larabee's hand. "I'll have you know, this is the finest ammunition that money can buy -- skilled craftsmen and some-such crap."

"Imported from Germany," JD added. "Dollar a-piece, I hear."

Vin furrowed his brow and took another bullet from Larabee's hand. "Seems like blanks to me. I think you can buy 'em for a few pennies."

"Vin," Buck said, "these blanks are worth more than gold to me."

"Glad to have you back, Buck," Chris said with a nod. He looked up in time to see Buck draw back, but he didn't have time to defend himself as the fist came flying. Larabee staggered backward from the force of the blow, looking at Buck in disbelief as the ladies' man blew at his knuckles.

Josiah and Vin both stood aside, and JD looked on smugly.

"What the hell?" Chris bellowed, feeling his sore nose.

"Next time, tell us what's in the damn box!" Buck exclaimed as he headed to the horses.

 

PART 21:

Nathan sat with his knees drawn up and his hands loosely folded over his knees. He mulled over what Ezra had told him – that the gambler had betrayed them all by stealing the box of railroad stock.

How could he? How could Standish do this to them? He’d thought that, after the incident with the Stutz money, Ezra had learned his lesson.

I wanted to trust him. I truly did. I thought I could. It makes no sense. He glanced at the cardsharp who breathed shallowly beside him, pale and weak. It can't be true, he decided. 

He lifted his head, hearing the sound of approaching horses. Here comes something. Best get ready. He stood, placing himself between Ezra and the approaching horsemen.

He stiffened as the shadowy images came into view and held his gun at the ready, praying that the approaching men were his friends. They had been gone a long time, and he had spent the last few hours worrying, afraid that something had happened to them.

"Nate!" he heard Buck call.

A smile broke out on his face. "Buck!" Jackson returned. "JD with you?"

The young sheriff called, "I'm here!"

Nate grinned at the mob that came toward him. There were ten men on horses, five easily identified as his friends, and five more who he didn't know. Chaucer came alongside JD, riderless.

"How's Ezra?" Buck asked as he jumped down from Clyde's back. "He doin' okay?"

"His fever's still mighty high," Nathan replied seriously. "He came around for a bit, but he's been out of it since then. If we can start him home, that would probably be for the best. Gotta get back so I can see to him proper."

The others nodded. "I reckon we can do that," Vin said. "Sun'll be up soon."

"What happened with you all?" Nathan asked.

"Oh," Josiah said philosophically. "There is always one who wants to go out in a blaze of glory."

"We caught up to the fellas who had Buck and JD. Ended up killin' one of theirs," Chris admitted.

Buck continued, "We left that son-of-a-bitch to the buzzards and flies. We got the rest of this bunch at Hunter's Cavern. At least they were smart enough to give up nice and easy." The five remaining men looked about sheepishly; apparently they had learned their lesson along the way and were keeping silent. The redhead had a nasty looking bruise across his jaw where someone must have hit him. They all looked rather ruffled.

Nathan pointed to Chris' bruised face and was about to comment when Larabee said, "Had words with Wilmington." And the healer just nodded knowingly.

JD sat down beside Ezra. He watched as Ezra moved his head slowly and clenched his hands sporadically. He looked horrible, but he was alive. God, he didn't think he'd ever see the gambler again. JD looked up to Buck who stood above him now. 

"It worked," JD said in amazement.

"Yeah, it sure did. I guess it was a good plan all in all," Buck agreed.

"Plan?" Nathan grimaced. "This have something to do with him stealin' that box of railroad stocks?"

JD and Buck looked at Nathan in disbelief. "Who said that he took it?" JD asked.

"He did," Nathan gestured to Ezra, who turned his head away in his sleep. "Said he took the box and was sorry for it." The healer turned to Buck and added, "Said you shot him because of it."

"Dang it!" Buck shouted, snatching the hat from his head and flinging it to the ground. "Gol-dang it!"

"It wasn't like that," JD responded. "Sure, Buck shot him..."

"You did shoot him?" Nathan asked, eyes wide as he turned to Buck.

Buck's heart clenched in horror as he sat down next to the unconscious man. "Now see here, Ezra!" he cried. "Now you just listen here, ya stupid misinformed son-of-a-bitch! You know darn well what went on. It was your damn idea! I don't want you believin' nothin' but the truth! I used those blanks of yours, and you know it! Don't you go thinkin' I did this!" He touched Ezra chest lightly, and bowed his head when he felt how warm the man was. "And don't you go thinkin' you took that damn box! Ya never touched the thing. What's the matter with you?"

Ezra, for his part, just muttered something unintelligible.

"That's right," Buck said, patting Ezra softly. "You just get better real fast and we'll get this straightened out."

"He didn't take that box," JD supplied as he watched Buck with Ezra. "Dang it, Nathan, don't you know better than to listen to Ezra when he's not feelin' right? He'll say pretty near anything."

Nathan smiled, relieved. "Why'd he go on about it then?"

"Nate, after all that went on with the Stutzs' money, I'm surprised he trusts himself at all anymore," Vin said with a sigh. "Seems he never got a chance. Why do you believe him when he says the worst things, and can't bring yourself to believin' any of the good?"

The healer lowered his head. "I didn't want to, Vin, but things looked rather suspicious. It's just…just…"

"It's easier to think the worst of Ezra," Chris completed. He met Vin's gaze before he continued. "He does a mighty fine job of hidin' his better side."

"Figures there's no point in callin’ attention to it, I reckon." Vin responded. "No one would believe it anyway."

"I never have been a man who did things the easy way. 'Spect I shouldn't take that path here either." Chris sighed. "I'll fix this."

Chris and Josiah had untied their captives from the horses and pulled them to the ground to secure them to the surrounding trees. The horses deserved a rest. There had been talk about making the men walk the whole distance, but the idea was given up so they could return to this little oasis as soon as possible.

Vin watched the forlorn chestnut with a keen eye, understanding. "Hey, Chauce, ya wanna see somethin'?"

Vin tugged the yielding animal behind him until they were beside Ezra. The gambler murmured something in his fevered sleep and tried to turn over, only to be held back by Buck and JD. The chestnut horse looked at the sight and suddenly pricked up his ears and tossed his head back in excitement. He nickered and snorted and muttered and chortled, rearing slightly, before Vin was able to pull him down.

"Easy now," the tracker said with a smile as the horse pranced about. The chestnut tugged the hat off his head and tossed it.

The others laughed, glad to see that some things were back to normal.

 

PaRT 22:

Russell Pilgrim waited impatiently in front of the jail, kicking a barrel and glaring out across the street. He’d been waiting for two days now – two long and unhappy days. He clenched his hands slowly as he cursed his misfortune, wishing that he could put his hands around his long awaited prize.

His attention landed on a group of riders entering the town at a good pace. There was that cold-hearted gunslinger on his big black, leading a chestnut horse that was constantly turning his head to see the other riders. Behind them was that darkie healer, riding abreast with two men on one horse -- that swindler and the mustached cowboy.

Pilgrim quickly assessed the situation and came to his own conclusion.

"Where is it?" he demanded as he strode out to meet them. "Where's my inheritance?"

Larabee gave the man a disgusted look, tore open one of his saddlebags and flung the cedar box at him. "Get that goddamn thing out of my sight," he growled as he dismounted.

The healer was already on the ground, standing beside Wilmington's horse. Larabee joined him. 

"Take it easy, now," the healer said, reaching up as Wilmington lowered the unconscious man.

"He's not doin' too good," Wilmington said worriedly as he moved the con man off his horse. "Been breathin' real bad. Hotter than hell."

"We got 'im, Buck," Larabee said, taking hold of the gambler, letting his head rest listlessly on his shoulder.

Pilgrim glared at the unmoving gamester. He could see the bandage -- a gunshot, no doubt. The dandy was pale as a corpse. Well, the sharp got what he deserved. Shouldn't have tried stealing from a Pilgrim!

"Told you it would happen," Pilgrim said, disgusted. "Told you he'd take it." He gave the man no further attention as he opened the already rifled box and started to examine the contents. "It better all be here, or I'll have him hung." He was startled when the box flew from his grasp -- even more so when a fist slammed into his jaw.

The world unhinged for a moment.

Pilgrim found himself on the ground, his face in a mass of pain, stars dancing before his eyes, the precious stocks blowing about him on the street. He glanced up to see Wilmington towering over him, his eyes fierce, obviously itching for a fight.

"Buck," the healer said calmly, "We could use some help."

Wilmington turned, not saying another word to Pilgrim as he returned to help his friends. Wilmington and Larabee carried that worthless cardsharp toward the darkie’s place with the healer-man close behind.

Pilgrim sat in the street, dazed and dumfounded until he realized that his prize was escaping. He scuttled about, frantic to collect his inheritance before the wind claimed it all.

 

PART 23:

Vin, JD and Josiah arrived in town late in the day, leading the extra horses and their walking prisoners. The five remaining outlaws looked footsore and tired by the time they were thrown into their cells.

A telegram was sent to Ridge City and a certain porter at the train station, named Eddie Deeds, was detained for questioning. Sometime during the trek, Bishop and Devon had given up his name. Apparently this wasn't the first time Deeds had passed information to this band of outlaws.

Ezra had been installed in the clinic by then. Nathan had been able to clean the wound properly and bandage him, but the fever hadn't loosened its hold. He was caught in a wretched series of delusions and pains that never gave him peace. Hours had passed without any change.

Buck slept on a nearby cot and JD slumped down in a chair, too exhausted from recent activities to stay awake any longer. Vin kept watch. Ezra continued to toss under the uncompromising influence of the fever as the tracker listened solemnly to the softly uttered words.

"My friends…not even m'friends trust me…fought beside 'em…shed blood beside 'em…not even m'friends."

"Shush, now Ez," Vin said, wiping down his head with a damp cloth and then running it down his heaving chest. "I trust ya."

"They wouldn't listen t'me. Couldn't believe in me."

"Sorry you didn't come to me, Ez," Vin said softly. "Wish I could'a talked to you. Wish I wasn't tied up with other crap." He looked up suddenly as the door opened and Chris and Josiah entered. They walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.

"I expect it from others…but not m'friends…" Ezra uttered.

"How's he been doin'?" Chris asked.

"Just keeps goin' on about that Stutz money," Vin said sorrowfully.

Chris crossed the floor and sat down on the cot beside Buck, who was regarding him with sleepy eyes. Josiah leaned against the wall as JD sat forward in his chair.

"Only wanted to share it 'round… split it seven ways…we'd all have somethin'…"

"I know, Ez."

"Ah didn't want to take it. Honest, I didn't."

Chris moved uncomfortably and Josiah looked at the floor.

"Tried…Lord, I tried…" Ezra swallowed and attempted to wrench his head out from under Vin. "Wanted to keep that money safe…wanted to show 'em."

"I know, pard." Vin held Ezra's head still with one hand.

"I could do it…I truly could. Would do a good job. They'd proud of me. But, I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't."

Josiah moved his jaw slowly and clutched his hands behind his back. He glanced to Chris, but the man-in-black was staring intently at the gambler, who tossed and wouldn’t open his eyes.

The door opened again and Nathan appeared with a tray. He looked somewhat startled to see the room full again -- he had shooed them all away not too long ago.

"But…they didn't…they didn't…give me a chance. None a'tall. Wanted me to fail… wanted me to take it….just to prove to themselves…just to prove what I was…"

"Shush," Vin soothed, "Don’t get yerself all excited. Ain't no call for that."

"…just a con man…a thief…cheater…not worth the trouble…coward…nothing…" Ezra clenched his hands and turned away from Vin, burying his head into the sheets.

"Hey!" Buck shouted, getting to his feet and then crossing the short distance to the bed. "Damn it! You remember how hard I worked to keep you goin'? You think I'd do that for someone I thought was 'not worth the trouble'? Hell, Ezra, my back still hurts from carryin' your sorry ass 'cross half the territory. And you gave JD such a fright; I think you aged 'im ten years. Hell, he's got gray hairs now. He wouldn't feel that way about 'nothing'."

Ezra was quiet for a moment, breathing deeply. Finally, he continued, "Had to take it… left me no choice." Ezra shook his head against the pillows. "If I’m declared guilty of a crime…I may as well commit it." His quiet voice faded and they had to strain to hear, "Never should 'ave given me that second chance…You deserved what you got." 

And he slipped back into a deeper sleep.

They were quiet. Only Vin still moved, continually wiping down Ezra’s overheated face and chest with the cool well water, speaking soft and reassuring words to the one who couldn't hear. Finally, once he was certain that Ezra was calm again, he raised his head and asked Chris, "How you aim to fix this?"

 

PART 24:

Ezra sat on the boardwalk outside the saloon and looked out across the town. He had just spent the past five days in Nathan's stuffy clinic. He didn't remember much about the first day or so; it was a disconnected and confusing blur until his fever broke. 

The following days were abominable. He had been as weak as a babe, hardly able to move, needing help to eat and get to the toilet. He grimaced at the memory. Worst of all, everyone walked around as if on pins and needles. He was certainly glad to be free of it and enjoyed this chance to sit in the sun.

Nathan and Josiah had carried him down to the first floor for some fresh air and admonished him to keep still. Who were they kidding? He was still too weak to move. There’d be no escape attempts in the immediate future. He couldn’t promise them anything for the days to come though.

"Ezra."

He turned to see a dark-clad shape move toward him. "Mr. Larabee, how good it is to see you."

"Need to talk."

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "You appear capable of discourse."

Chris smirked at the sarcastic remark. "This business about the money…"

"I believe that Mr. Pilgrim recovered the majority of his inheritance." Standish waved his hand "A few of the stocks are still missing from the pot, but he's safely away from here and I believe glad of that."

"Ain't about Pilgrim," Chris said, spitting out the name.

"What then?"

"It's about Stutz."

"Oh," Ezra replied quickly and leaned back in his chair. "Ah yes, I'm familiar with the name and the situation." His eyes fastened on piece of paper that flitted about, far down the street. "Both father and son have departed this earth, and the money, I believe, has been handed over to the government. I'm certain they'll use it wisely."

Chris leaned his shoulder against the roof support. "Didn't give you a fair shake."

The paper became extremely fascinating and Ezra couldn't take his eyes from it. "Well, it all turned out for the better." He smiled tightly. "No harm done."

"Damn it, Ezra! Everything just went to hell. I just need you to know that given the same circumstances, I'd have no problem trusting you with something like that."

Ezra laughed, but his eyes still watched the paper. "Considerin' the outcome of that situation, I can't see how you could. It would be extremely unwise on your part."

"Well, considerin' that you got yourself shot tryin' to save Mary…"

"I wasn't tryin' to get shot, Mr. Larabee. I was simply attempting to disarm the miscreant and misjudged the situation." He rubbed his side at the memory. "Misjudged it deplorably…" he added.

"You saved her life."

"Yes, I remember her sayin' as much."

"I wanted to thank you for that. Don't think I've made a proper showing of my gratitude." Larabee's voice became softer as he admitted, "Don't know what I would have done if harm came to Mary. If it weren't for you…" His voice trailed off and then he added, "…she'd be gone."

Ezra nodded in response, watching the paper turn.

Larabee frowned, knowing that this wasn't going to be easy, "And well, I misjudged, too. Made rather poor decisions with this Pilgrim thing."

A smile jerked at Ezra lips. "We all make mistakes, Mr. Larabee."

"I've made a lot of 'em over the years. I figure that business over the Stutz money was one of 'em, and this decision about sending you three after that box without lettin' you know what was in it was another."

"Agreed," Ezra replied, lowering his hat over his eyes.

The gunslinger sighed quietly. "There's one thing I've done, though, that never was a mistake, Ezra. And I need you to hear me clearly on this one." He leaned closer to the slouching gambler, and spoke firmly, "I don't regret givin' you that second chance. I figure it's one of my better decisions."

Ezra said nothing.

"Didn't make a misjudgment there," Larabee continued. "You could ‘ave just kept ridin' from that village and Anderson. No one would have known but you. I figured it took brass balls to come back and save our hides."

Chris had to smile at Ezra's loss for words. 

“Figure we all owe our lives to you," Larabee added as he straightened. "I gave you a second chance, now I'm askin' you to return the favor. Don’t sell us short. Don't give up on us."

Ezra tipped his head back, his green eyes glinting curiously from beneath the hat. He made no commitment, voiced no comment, but he touched the brim of his hat.

Chris nodded. "You get yourself well. Can't have you sittin' around like this for too long. I need you back."

Ezra watched the gunslinger leave, blinking in surprise. He never would have believed it if he hadn't heard it himself. The gambler raised a hand to his forehead to see if the fever had returned.

"Hey, pard," Buck called, startling the gambler. "You feelin' okay?"

Ezra hastily lowered his hand and nodded. "Yes, quite."

"Nate finally got tired of ya, huh?"

"I believe he felt it would be best if we spent some time apart."

Buck sat down on the empty seat beside Standish. "Got somethin' to say to you."

Ezra cocked his head at Buck. "There seems to be a lot of that going around."

Buck leaned closer to the recovering gambler and growled, "Don't cha EVER make me do that again!"

Ezra was astonished. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean. I'm talkin' about you makin' me shoot cha."

"But, Mr. Wilmington, it was for the best, and it made for great theater."

"I don't give a shit about that. I ain't gonna shoot at one of my friends again. Never! Hell, I've been havin' nightmares about it ever since."

"I'll make note of that. And perhaps you should try warm milk before bed. I hear it works wonders. I prefer mine with a touch of brandy." Nightmares, Ezra thought, wondering if Buck was exaggerating.

"And then, ya went and believed that I done it for real. What the hell's the matter with ya?"

"A momentary confusion, which has since passed." Ezra then said seriously, "May I take this time to most humbly thank you. You saved my life, such as it is. I never would have made if it weren't for your steadfast assistance and support. And I wouldn't have survived it if you hadn't gone through with the charade."

Buck shrugged. "Aw, Ezra. That weren't nothin'."

"Ah, Mr. Wilmington, but it was everything to me. I do realize that I was a terrific burden..."

"You weren't no burden, Ezra."

Ezra raised his eyebrows. Wilmington must have been a better liar than Ezra thought. He certainly sounded sincere. The gambler knew that it must have been an incredible inconvenience if nothing else. "Nonetheless, I'm in your debt."

"Well then, you owe me a drink when I get back from patrol."

Ezra nodded his acceptance. It would do for a start.

Buck leaned back and then said, "You had Nate convinced you'd taken that box."

"I'm afraid so," Ezra replied.

"Why'd you do that?"

"I wasn't in my right mind." He tapped a finger against his head. "In the throes of a rather uncompromising fever."

"You remember what I told you earlier?"

"Concerning?"

"'Bout how I figured you wouldn't take that box. I know you better than that, Ez."

Ezra smiled. "Then you must know me better than I know myself." He watched the paper again. It had moved up the street, dancing and flipping in the easy breeze. "Personally, I'm certain I'd have taken it. I have no willpower when it comes to such things."

"Yeah, well maybe I do know you better. Figure you know what really has value." Buck snorted. "Myself, I wouldn't have wanted it."

"Really, Mr. Wilmington? The worth of the stocks was more than you could imagine. Think of what it would buy. Think of all that it could give you. Imagine having your own gold mine in that box."

"Well, you, JD and me all came pretty close to gettin' killed over the damn thing. If I had a choice between the all of us alive and well, or havin' a box of those pretty papers...I'd choose keepin' us all alive."

Ezra nodded after a moment. "I do suppose you're right. There are some things, perhaps, worth more than gold."

Buck smiled broadly. "There ya go! I knew you'd come around." He gave Ezra a slap on the arm. "Gotta go patrol. Remember, I'm expecting that drink when I get back, so you better be 'round."

"Where would I go?" Ezra asked, gesturing widely with one arm, the other was secured in a sling.

"Well, take it easy while you can."

"Indeed I shall. I'm afraid Mr. Larabee is already eager to put me back on the duty roster."

"Well, I got tomorrow free -- JD, too. Thought we might go out to Ol' Mr. Johnston's Pond. Think Nate'll letcha go?"

Ezra smiled deviously. "I might find a way around him." Sure, he was feeling a little weak today, but tomorrow might be different. He was getting better right along.

Buck gave him another slap. “We’ll count on you then.”

Ezra watched Wilmington turn and saunter away, whistling. Buck moved with a certain ease and grace. Each loose-limbed step seemed to radiate a happiness, a contentment.

There goes a good man, Ezra thought.

Once the tall cowboy disappeared from sight, Ezra returned his attention to the paper that flitted in the street. It skipped across the boardwalk and flipped end over end toward him. It danced and tossed and continued its playful progression along the street.

It skittered onto the boardwalk again and tottered toward him. When it finally came within reach, he trapped it with one of his feet.

Ezra examined it from where he sat -- noting the fancy scrollwork, the telltale images of locomotives in the corners. It fluttered in the breeze, lifting its corners and trying to wrap around his boot. He regarded it for a moment, rubbed his chin, and then lifted his foot to let it continue on its way.

THE END


End file.
